


Gradual Improvement

by starkind



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), DC Cinematic Universe, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Backstory, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Multi, Past Lives, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-03-10 19:09:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 34,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3300434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkind/pseuds/starkind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two people at Princeton, followed by seven years of absence</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Stop Believing

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Alfred's comment in Batman Begins about Bruce being at Princeton University. My renegade mind decided to take this a notch (or two) further and added a young, ambitious Virginia Potts to the mix.

When 18-year-old Virginia Potts left her hometown in Connecticut to study business management at Princeton in 1996, her father scraped up most of his savings to get her through the first two years without too much hassle. She was able to make good time and actually study, without having to work double shifts in retail or coffee shops.

Soon, she became an avid undergraduate with splendid grades; diligent and eager to learn. To the outside, she was a quiet young woman who wore her natural red hair short and usually dyed in light-brown hues, and the freckles on her face covered with makeup. After getting over her initial shyness, she eventually found a dorm to share with three other girls.

They got along well, but while the rest of them went out for parties and dates, Virginia stayed home most of the time, read a lot and did most of the household chores by her own choice. At the tender age of nineteen, she learned that her father had become quite sick over the course of the summer, and the incapacity pension he received barely covered the doctor's bills.

Being an only child, Virginia was torn between abandoning college to take care of him in New Haven and following her career path.

Even though he was unable to provide her with the necessary tuition fees any longer, he wanted her to stay in Princeton, seeing it was what he and her long deceased mother had always wanted. She took up a part-time job at a local burger joint and worked the night shifts; her books underneath the counter to study when the restaurant was empty during the last few hours.

At each given opportunity, however, Virginia threw a duffel bag into her red 1991 Honda Prelude and drove 2.5 hours home to see her dad, did his grocery shopping and went on walks with him. Whenever she needed to get back to college with a guilty conscience and tears in her eyes, Virginia told herself to study even harder, spurred by the desire to get a good job to support her fathers' rising costs.

When 1998 rolled around, she was one of the best students in her semester and passed her MBA with flying colors. Seeing she had discovered her true fascination for figures and financial management, she was presented the prospect of getting a fellowship for a joint degree program for a Master in Public Affairs; something to grant her the unique opportunity to continue studying in another two-year-full-time residential program.

In return, she got approached by her professor to help out with a student from the B. S. E. program who was lacking a little motivation.

Bruce Wayne was a 21-year-old student in the Department of Operations Research and Financial Engineering, and one of the least enthusiastic people Virginia Potts had ever met. He was a little taller than she was, though rather lanky, with a basically non-existent growth of facial hair, but lots of brown hair which covered most of his forehead and eyes - not in a fashionable, but a 'couldn't care less' way.

He kept his lips pinched together tight for the most part, which made understanding him hard; if he chose to speak at all.

After their first and very awkward private tutoring lesson, Virginia had asked straightaway for a substitute on her part, and Bruce did not show up on campus for the next couple of days. It took a little convincing for her, and some prodding for him by their respective professors, until they managed to get it together well enough to at least start working on some topics vital for Bruce to pass an upcoming, mid-term assessment.

Virginia soon came to learn he certainly was not stupid; quite the contrary.

Behind Bruce's oftentimes cynical facade was an astute mind, which he seemed to have buried deep beneath his inexplicable anger and apparent boredom. Over the course of the upcoming six months, the two of them went from wary acceptance to what could probably count for as a tender friendship. Most of their conversations usually revolved around financial mathematics; a fact Virginia did not mind.

She was passionate about one of her favorite subjects and ignored the slightly scornful curl of Bruce's mouth whenever she spoke about her dreams of working in high finance one day. When asked about his passion and ambitions, he always shrugged with the same bored expression and made an offhand remark. It took some time until she discovered he was from Gotham, and got to tell him she was from Connecticut.

Much to her surprise, Bruce continued to stick around; especially when her roommates had flown the coop and he could eat all the excess food she had cooked. He began to call her Gina at some point but got mad as hell when she tried to call him Brucie one evening. When he returned to the scene two days later, she did not apologize but instead settled for calling him Brix, after the French area his name originated from.

The faint smirk on his face told her he seemed to be able to live with that.

Both loners, they sometimes teamed up, took her car and cruised around New Jersey. Bruce would adjust the passenger seat backward, almost into a horizontal position, until he was able to prop up his ridiculously large, worn out sneakers on the plastic dashboard. Arms protecting his chest he then kept her quiet company while they listened to Virginia's old, tinny cassette collection of Dire Straits, Glenn Frey, and Journey.

Whenever the broken AC would get too much to bear in the summer, they bought soft drinks and greasy takeaway from a nearby drive-thru, sat on the dented bonnet of the Honda, and got their pale complexions sunburned like no tomorrow. Bruce never spoke about himself, his family, or what really moved him deep inside, but Virginia did not bug him. While no big talker, he at least seemed to be a good listener.

* * *

Virginia received a devastating message at the beginning of December 1999. Her father had died from pneumonia, two days after being taken to the hospital. Within all the shock, it was Bruce Wayne who drove her all the way home to New Haven in her own car. Once they were in Connecticut, he was quick to disappear on her until the funeral was over. He did, however, show up just in time to take her devastated form back to Princeton.

It became a long, silent ride during which he never asked if she wanted to talk about it. Instead, he kept on staring ahead on the road with the same, thin-lipped expression while she silently wept into the sleeve of her jacket and tried to hide her tears from him. Virginia would wear black for days to come, and their private coaching sessions stagnated; neither one bringing up the courage to make the first step.

It was not until a week before Christmas when Bruce eventually sought her out, mumbled something about dinner, and showcased his newest possession in form of an old, blue Honda motorcycle. The 1979 model was only two years younger than Bruce himself and had its seat duct-taped together in the middle, but Virginia had rarely seen him more excited over anything.

When he held out an open-faced helmet, worn and scratched, she strapped it on after a moment of hesitation and slipped onto the bike. Not knowing if he even had a motorcycle license, Virginia was a bit scared. The old machine did not have any handles to steady the pillion passenger, so she had to hook her arms around Bruce's shoulders from behind, and pressed her knees together tight.

He took her to a TGI Friday's over in East Winsor, a fifteen minute drive through the cold and starry night; a night she would always think back upon as her very first ride on a motorbike. Even if the how, when, and where Bruce acquired the Honda remained a mystery to her forever, Virginia came to learn about something far more important that evening.

When their ears, hands, and feet were getting warm again inside the diner, and their stomachs were stuffed with Triple Stack Reuben sandwiches and Bud Light, Bruce told her he was an orphan since the age of eight for the very first time. As to be expected, he chose to fall short on any more details regarding his person, and she chose to accept his quasi-apology invitation without complaint.

On their way back to campus, however, she pressed herself up against his back a little closer than before, all the while complaining about the freezing cold seeping under her shopworn duffel coat. She missed out on the small smirk that tugged at his lips when her arms wormed around the center of his body, almost like a hug. It was all she could offer and all he would take, but as it was, it turned out to be enough.

For years, Virginia would remember the unique mixture of fuel mingled with crisp winter air and the faint scent of Bruce's waxed Barbour jacket.

Much to her surprise, he left Princeton at the turn of the year to take a flight back home to Gotham. Virginia, who had no relatives whatsoever, almost asked him to take her along, but since he did not seem to have the same idea, her pride and an underlying disappointment made her wish him a good time. In an attempt to get rid of her self-pity, she played tag-along to her dorm girls and their New Year's Eve plans instead.

Needless to say, she felt uncomfortable right from the get-go, at a house party someplace in New Jersey. It went up to the point where she fled to the restrooms when a pimply guy with huge glasses tried to get to kiss her at midnight. Happy new year, Virginia, she thought, all maudlin. Bruce returned to Princeton the second week of January 2000 and had a long talk with the dean of the school of engineering and applied science.

Afterwards, still fueled by his previous cocky attitude, he strolled by her place to wish his Gina a happy new year.  
  
No, he did not want to study for finals with her, and yes, everything was going just fine.

Virginia who was still miffed at him for disappearing on her without so much of a second glance, gave him the cold shoulder, because, apparently, the mighty Brix knew everything better anyhow, and that was that. Oh, and if he did not want to study with her that was fine, too, but please, she was busy, and if he would be so kind to leave her alone so that at least one of them could actually make something out of their lives.

Never before had she seen his eyes holding so much anger and rage.

His quiet hiss how that was just fine by him barely reached her ears. When he stormed off, Bruce slammed the front door shut with so much force that it prompted two wooden picture frames to rattle down onto the floor. It would be the last time she ever saw him around, and so she missed out on the massive black eye Bruce obtained from a brawl on campus only mere hours later. 

It should become an incident that was going to have far more serious consequences than he assumed.

Ever since Virginia had known him, Bruce Wayne had always had a habit of picking fights in which he was outnumbered or inferior in strength. She always scolded him for it afterward; pointing out their mutual efforts at making progress regarding his grades, but it did not help. A certain side of the Gothamite had always seemed to work hard on becoming a dropout with all his might.

Now, at the age of 23, and after putting another student in the hospital during his most ferocious fistfight ever, he eventually succeeded in getting suspended from college. He was gone in a cloak-and-dagger operation from one day to the other. Virginia was shocked upon hearing the news; she was head over heels in studying for her finals, and his sudden departure and the reasons behind unsettled her more than anything.

She kept on checking her mail by the hour, thinking he might have gone and dropped her a line at least, but nothing ever came; no letters, no phone calls, nothing. At some point, she even thought about trying to get her hands on his home address in Gotham, to write him instead. He had, however, never bothered to give it to her, and she knew Princeton would not supply her with his data either.

Besides, the seldom times he had spoken of his hometown had not sounded like he would choose to ever live there again. And so, finals came and went by, and no sooner that Virginia Potts was officially able to add an MPA to her list of scholar achievements, she found herself being hired on the spot by a headhunter from America's largest and most renowned weapon’s manufacturing companies, Stark Industries.  
  
She made herself forgot about Bruce, made sure her parents' old house had taken in lodgers for a profitable revenue and headed off into a new, exciting future at the New York division of her new employer.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of chapter refers to the song by Journey (1981)


	2. You Belong To The City

Working in accounting at SI was not as fulfilling as Virginia had imagined it to be at first. When fate wanted her to take on the role of the executive assistant to the very Mister Stark in 2001, she found herself no longer bored out of her mind doing paperwork.

Not used to all the abundant luxury at first, she soon made fair use of her salary and reinvented herself. Her hair went from what had become a trademark, mid-length blonde, to undyed red, all neatly done up in a chignon. The brands in her closet went from Target, with a little JCrew thrown in for good measure, to brands like Boss, Armani, and Dior.  
  
When Tony Stark settled his private domicile on the west coast, she bought herself a nice condo at the shore, a sleek little convertible, and an armada of Louboutin high heels. She felt like she had every right to get compensated for all the trouble and hassle of working for her new boss.

He would call her Pepper instead of Virginia from the very first time they met in person and expected her to call him Tony in return. His inability to listen when she kept on calling him Mister Stark ranked high amongst many other, even more outrageous things and sketchy situations no college could have prepped her for.

Anthony Edward Stark at 31 was a full-blown playboy par excellence. Though of medium height, he had turned out to become handsome beyond average; with dark, luscious hair, and equally mesmerizing eyes. He was America's number one weapon’s manufacturer and a genius on top, who hated most people's mediocrity with a passion.

Many times between 2001 and 2004, Virginia 'Pepper' Potts was on the verge of handing in her resignation because of his utterly impossible ways - and yet she stayed.

It took three years, filled with threats to press charges of sexual harassment, of working as his PA, until he began to realize how truly valuable she was in his daily life. Once he stopped trying to get into her pants and kept on womanizing the other 99.99 percent of the female population, Tony Stark and Pepper Potts indeed became friends. She kept on running his life and was finally able to enjoy their verbal sparring at eye level.

One mild midsummer night in 2007, Pepper accompanied her boss and his bodyguard to an opening event for a well-known artist in New York.

It was supposed to be part-charity as well, and Tony had been part-eager not to attend at all. His assistant had applied to the greedy little part of his soul; the one which always just wanted to buy the most expensive or popular exhibits only because he could. Pepper had argued that his greed at least would help the poor that time, which had caused Stark to actually laugh out loud.

"I like your way of thinking. Wear something amazing, Potts - in case the exhibits are crap and I need to fasten my eyes on something beautiful."

Around 10 pm, they arrived at The Mark; a posh landmark building at the corner of 77th Street and Madison Avenue. The penthouse suite exhibited different paintings, sculptures, and several other artistic pieces. While Tony headed straight for the wet bar in the nearby roof pavilion, Pepper at least made an effort to meander through the many rooms to look at the individual pieces.

She was quick to deem most of the exhibits not being to Tony's liking and went to let him know. She found him leaning against the bar, tumbler in hand, and talking to Jay Carson, a special advisor of New York's mayor Michael Bloomberg. While she sipped on a club soda, Pepper listened to the two men being engaged in a discussion about the city's economic development within the next couple of years.

Tony Stark had been in business long enough to know even the most idealistic, pro-environmental politicians would never dare to cross him or his company; Stark Industries was well-affiliated with the government, its less-than-stellar pollution control programs be damned. At some point, Carson then excused himself to meet up with someone in the adjacent great room, and Tony almost sighed with relief.

He took a minute to appreciate Pepper's long black gown with its lace-ornamented halterneck top and smirked when she told him about the meager selection of exhibits. Stark then downed his remaining scotch and shoved the glass away. “Yeah, figured as much. Think I'll scram the place soon; Happy's gonna take us midtown. Marquee.”

Pepper played with the seltzer in her hand. She never drank at work, no matter the time or location. As long as she was on the job, she and Tony's chauffeur would be the last ones sober. At the prospect of yet another night full of booze and party for him and hassle and drunk-wrestling for her, Pepper sighed to herself. Tony did notice her hidden discomfort nevertheless.

“Little more enthusiasm there, Potts. Get us a table for 11:30 or later. And - bottle service.”

Like the ever professional assistant, she took out her cellphone and went to a quiet corner of the bar. With her back towards the scene and one ear on the phone, she only vaguely heard Jay Carson's voice cutting through the room again. Just when she had received a confirmation of her reservation and turned back around, the political consult had another man by his side and gestured back and forth between the two men.

“Mister Stark, may I introduce you to Mister Bruce Wayne – CEO of Wayne Enterprises.”

It took her less than a millisecond to recognize him. Dressed impeccably in a tailor-made three-piece suit, hair neatly combed back, and far more athletic than she remembered him to be, Pepper Potts stared long and hard at the man she had not seen since college as he extended a hand.

“Mister Stark, a pleasure to meet you.”  
Tony took the proffered hand and raised his eyebrows.  
“Likewise, Mister Wayne. You're looking quite dapper for a guy supposed to be dead.”

Near petrified, Pepper watched from afar how Jay Carson broke into semi-embarrassed laughter.  
Bruce Wayne, however, gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.  
“The condemned live longer, I suppose.”

Tony acknowledged him with a click of the tongue and a nod before he remembered his missing assistant. Turning around to where Pepper was still clutching the bar counter as if her life depended on it, he beckoned her over. When Bruce followed his line of view, he, too froze in disbelief for a split second. Unable to meet his wide-eyed stare, she focused on the grinning face of her boss.

“Meet my assistant, the lovely Miss Pepper Potts, who usually looks more professional than right now. Pep, dearest, stop swooning, will ya? He's not _that_ good looking. This is the guy from Gotham, who's almost as rich as I am. Bruce Wayne.”

While Jay Carson laughed along, both Bruce and Pepper were too caught up in their respective stupor to comment on Tony's brazen exclamation. Wordless she then extended a hand, and almost flinched when Bruce took it and indicated a kiss to her knuckles. His dark eyes gazed at her.

“Miss Potts, I am... more than delighted.”

Swallowing around a huge lump in her throat, Pepper managed to nod dignified enough and tried not to mind the tingling feel of her fingers. Jay Carson began to speak about potential business opportunities again, pointing out a few people to Bruce he wanted to introduce to him as well. Tony took his cue and quickly indicated for the bartender to provide him with another drink.

When Carson steered Wayne over into the great room next to the pavilion, the Gothamite cast a final look over his shoulder to where Tony and Pepper remained standing at the bar. Once he was out of sight, Pepper snapped out of her trance. “Okay, your table. I have a reservation for 11:15, the only option on short notice. Which means we need to get going now. I'm going to get Happy to bring the car around. If we...”

Her hectic ramblings got interrupted by Tony's held-up hand while he sipped on his drink. “Na-ah-ah, Potts, not so fast. Don't rush me, you know I so hate to be rushed. We'll get there at 11:30, and the table will still be free. You mentioned whom you're reserving for? Eh, so we're good. I wanna look at all the craptastic stuff around here first of all.”

With a toast of his glass and a wink into her direction, Tony was off through the open archway of the pavilion. Left behind was a more than frazzled personal assistant, who still tried to comprehend what had happened less than five minutes ago. Heavily tempted to go for a drink, Pepper fought the urge down and made her way over to the spacious rooftop terrace for some air instead.

Out of the blue, she asked a woman for a cigarette and retreated into a far-away corner to be alone with her tumbling thoughts. The smoke burned down her throat and she had to cough. Her history of smoking was limited to one joint at high school, and the occasional socializing puff during her first years at SI. If anything, it kept her hands busy for the moment, and she watched the blueish fumes drift above her head.

Of course she could have been able to trace him during all those years but told herself it would have been nothing but a moot point. They had been young and barely known each other during their time at Princeton. Once he went away with all of his anger, all of her memories of him had offed as well. At least that was what the Pepper Potts of the present tried to tell herself.  
  
And now, almost ten years later, he was back in her face. So very different, and yet the same angry young man from college. Or wasn't he? Despite the pleasant temperatures of the summer night, Pepper shuddered as a gust of wind played on her bare shoulders. Who was she to make assumptions though; he seemed to have fared well in the business world he had always spoken so lightly about.

At Princeton, she had never deemed him to be rich; the clothes he wore had not been cheap, but he hardly ever wore anything apart from jeans and hooded jackets anyhow. If the occasional rumor had been going around on campus that Bruce Wayne was, in fact, already a millionaire before his 21st birthday, then those rumors had never gotten through to the loner who had been Virginia Potts.

Maybe that was one of the reasons he had resonated so well with her, she thought with a hint of cynicism. Quiet, slow footsteps approached her from behind. They stopped when she put her right elbow upon the hand of her left arm which was wrapped around her waist. She did not turn around, and instead took another drag of the smoldering cigarette. The tobacco sizzled a little.

“I didn't know you smoked.”  
  
Pepper briefly closed her eyes. Still the same voice; slight baritone with some subtle irony mixed in for good measure. Again she felt the burn in her lungs before she exhaled a fine line. “Me neither.” Soon he appeared in the corner of her eye; a dark and tall shadow in his impeccable black suit.  
  
“Gina.”  
Another shudder ran over her exposed shoulder blades and caused her to pull them up high.  
“Don't call me that. I'm not Gina anymore.”

It came out harsher than intended, and for a second she assumed he would just turn around and leave. Instead, Bruce Wayne crossed his ankles on the terracotta tiled patio, put an arm on the balustrade and studied her profile. The faint indoor lighting played on his features as his left eyebrow twitched upwards. “Because you're Pepper now.” Not a question, but not a hint of sneer either.  
  
Her mouth curved into a lopsided smirk. “Among other things. Virginia somehow didn't really cut it in the big business world.”  
  
Eventually she dared to glimpse into his direction and found herself lingering. Somehow she had pictured him to be shorter in her memory, especially since she now wore stilettos. His face had leaned out even further and matured into more chiseled features, with high cheekbones and deep-set eyes. They were intense and possessive, and as observant as she remembered them to be.

“I've always known you'd make it big someday.”  
At that, Pepper had to laugh out loud and give a shake of the head.  
“Says one of the richest people on the east side.”

Bruce then reached out towards her, and she froze, startled. Then she realized his hand went for the glimmering object in her hand. With just a faint brush against her skin, he casually grasped the cigarette in between thumb and index finger. He kept eye contact with her as he took a drag. “You know me better than that, Gina.” She watched him blow out a sharp gush of fume from the corner of his half-opened lips.

He handed the smoke back, and she could feel how his fingers were warm against hers. Pepper snorted and looked away, out into the illuminated skyline of New York. “Have I ever _known_ you at all?” The tobacco now tasted stale in her mouth, and she dropped the remaining stub onto the floor to crush it underneath the ball of her foot. When she looked at him again, she brushed a fleeting strand of hair behind her ear.

Bruce shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I've just gotten around to knowing myself. So, maybe not.” Out of nowhere, Pepper began to rub her hands up and down her upper arms. She did not really feel cold but felt the need for something to hold on to, to keep her real. He squared his shoulders, making him appear taller yet again, and cast her a sideways glance. “But who knew you could become even more gorgeous.”

Surprised, she blinked and returned his gaze. At the honest, non-leering expression he wore, her features softened until a bashful smile appeared on her lips. She purposely let her eyes wander up and down his athletic physique before she tilted her head in scrutiny. “You cleaned up quite nicely yourself there, Brix.” The odd nickname rolled off her tongue with ease, and it elicited the tiniest smirk from him.

In one fluent motion, he took his hands out of his pockets to place them upon the banister instead. Pepper regarded his profile as he braced himself against the railing. His jaw worked, way before he actually spoke. “Unfortunately, I have to be back in Gotham tomorrow.” When she inhaled loud enough for him to hear; a clear, non-verbal objection to whatever he was about to suggest, Bruce pursed his lips and stared ahead.

“It's been ages since I shared some fries from TGI Friday with someone special, however.”

This brought out the very first, real laughter to Pepper's lips, and he could not help but smile at the sound.  
  
She proceeded to check her non-existent watch, only to go for her little purse and the phone inside instead. 11:26, and a message from Tony blinked on the display. _'Ya went AWOL so Happy and I went ahead. See you at the Marquee. Shoo, Potts.'_ With a little groan, she flipped the device shut and shoved it back. Bruce looked at her with questioning eyes, and Pepper gnawed on the inside of her cheek.  
  
“Well then - I hope you brought your car because my ride has already left for tonight's dance club.”  
  
And so, ten minutes later, she exited The Mark to find Bruce waiting for her behind the wheel of a dark-gray Lamborghini convertible. Pepper pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders and watched him get out to open the passenger door for her. When she had found her voice again, they were already purring down 5th Avenue.

The looks they got when the Italian sports car parked in front of the fast-food restaurant were priceless. She shielded her face from all nosy bystanders who walked around the car as she waited for Bruce to come back. He returned with a small paper bag and two beverages in a cup holder seconds later, handed both items over to her, and pulled out of the driveway with enough revving to make the crowd hoot and cheer after them.

Pepper, used to Rolls Royce and the occasional Audi R8, let the airflow play with her hair and leaned her head back. "This beats cruising in my old Honda by far." Bruce's nimble fingers played with the entertainment system of the Lamborghini until smooth saxophone beats wavered through the speakers in a deep, reverberating timbre. His left hand rested on the leather steering wheel as they stopped at a red light.

"I think it's best if we skip the sitting on the bonnet part this time." Out of nowhere, Pepper stole a glance at his ring finger and found it empty. Quick to dart her eyes upwards to his deadpan expression, she cast him a mocking glance. "You deserve a medal for becoming a full-blown square." Bruce simply gave a small smirk and pressed down on the accelerator as the light turned green.

They headed for a secluded place at Hudson River Greenway where Bruce switched off everything except for parking lights and placed the TGI Friday bag in between. And there and then, it felt like 1998 to Virginia Potts again; even though she was wiping salted fingers into an expensive $3,000 gown, and the car they were in had cost more than all of her tuition fees combined.

For the moment it was just like old times: Gina and Brix, with no words needed, and not a single care in the world.  
  
And just like that, it turned out to be enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title meant to be a nod to Glenn Frey's song (1985)


	3. Heartbeat City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh, yeah, so this comes totally of out of nowhere.. seeing I had no intention of writing these two sometime soon again - here they are, taking this a tiny step further. So, no, sorry, none of the 'promised' smut (so far... who knows... give them time ;))

The large serving of seasoned fries was gone in less than ten minutes.

Pepper emptied her soda with two final sips on the straw before putting it into the paper bag Bruce held open for her. He then crumpled the trash into one tight ball just as she ripped one of the little wet-wipe packages open. “Guess there's no point in bothering to get to the Marquee anymore.” Bruce watched her meticulously scrub down her fingers before accepting a tissue as well.  
  
“What's at the Marquee?”

“My boss and his exuberant sense of partying till morning. This time, his chauffeur will have to deal with it.” Determined, Pepper pulled out her phone from her clutch and started typing. Bruce opened his door to throw the trash into a nearby garbage can and slipped back into his seat. “That means I'll get to take you... where?” He took a quick look at his watch, which Pepper recognized as a Jaeger-LeCoultre Reverso.

“Seeing it's already past midnight, and you have to be in Gotham tomorrow... home, probably.” Something like regret mingled with· her words as she tucked phone and clutch back at her feet. Bruce shifted to look at her. “I don't mind pulling an all-nighter. I can sleep on the plane tomorrow.” There was a certain hint of smugness in his voice, which she could not place, so she did not further comment on it.

“Well then – why don't you take me cruising down Big Apple, Mister Wayne?”  
The Lamborghini came to life with four little blips and a roar as Bruce turned the key.  
“Only if you don't start calling me that – it's bad enough Alfred does.”

“Who is Alfred?”  
At that, he looked truly embarrassed for the first time of the evening.  
“My... butler.”

Pepper could not help but to break into a bright laugh. “You have a butler? Seriously?” Bruce's expression morphed into a pout that was only half-serious. “One more word and I'm throwing you out right here, Miss Potts.” She bit her bottom lip and raised both palms in mock-surrender. “I'll be good, promise.” To her suppressed snickering, Bruce shook his head, put the supercar in reverse, and headed back for the state highway.

The streets were sparsely enough populated for the Lamborghini to make its way down to W 96th Street undeterred. For a while, only deep house beats filled the air. “So, do you live around here? Manhattan?” Pepper stopped gazing at the moonlit sky and turned her head to glance at her driver.

“Oh, no, I'm based in Malibu these days, because of work. But whenever Tony needs to travel to the east coast, we usually end up staying at the Four Seasons, so that's why we're jokingly calling it home.” Bruce pushed his jaw forward and gave a nod that seemed to exude some kind of ambivalence. She responded with a little dismissive wave.  
  
“Never mind. Where are you staying tonight?”  
  
“St. Regis.”

“Now why doesn't that surprise me?”

“... because you're used to this lifestyle?”

“No, because _you_ have a _butler_ , Brix. I can't get over that one, for real.”

“At this point, I feel like you're downright making fun of me.”

“I'm not, I swear.”

 _“Really.”_  
  
Their banter stopped briefly when Bruce had to pay attention to crossing multiple lanes in a fast, but still safe passing maneuver. Looking at a multitude of yellow cabs and other cars and trucks flying by in a blur, Pepper eventually spoke up again once they were back to doing 55 mph. “Can I meet him?" Bruce whipped his head into her direction. “What? Whom?”

“Your Alfred. He must be a real treasure.”

“... what kind of impression do you have of me, exactly?” He tried to sound shocked, to which she only remained deadpan. “At this point, I am still gathering facts, but so far, I dare to assume you're probably residing in the Presidential Suite, too.” When Bruce said nothing and slowly turned his head back to focus on driving, Pepper chortled. “Oh, please, no. No, stop. _Brix!_ Oh my God!”

She put a hand on her stomach full of fries and tried not to laugh even harder when he pointed at her. “Matter of fact I don't, but now you are coming with me and look at my personal silver spoon collection in person.” The Murciélago growled out loud as Bruce put his foot down. Pepper dabbed at her lower lashes.

“Only if I get to meet Alfred, too."

* * *

They entered the large marble-finished lobby of the luxury hotel after Bruce had passed on his Lamborghini to a valet boy outside. Golden ornaments dominated the entrance hall through which the Gothamite led his female company. After the elevator doors had closed behind them, Pepper grimaced. “The look on the concierge’s face spoke volumes.”

Bruce pressed the button to the Royal Suite and leaned back against the railing with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “You mean he just had a Pretty Woman moment?” Seeing they were alone, Pepper reached over to give a little smack to his chest with her clutch. “Oh, shush it, you.” He lowered his head in shame, but there was a smirk playing around the corners of his mouth.

Opulent furnishings, gilded moldings, exotic prints and an eclectic art collection awaited her. Much to Pepper's disappointment, the hotel's own 24-hours butler service did not include Alfred. As she stood in the living room, its stunning view on Central Park soon drew her out onto the balcony. “This is magnificent. Have you been here in broad daylight? I bet you can see for miles!” With a benign smile, Bruce followed her.

“I haven't had the time to really get acquainted.”

When a gust of wind blew around the corners, it prompted Pepper to shudder and hunch up her shoulders. Bruce went to shrug off his jacket in a move too fast for her to realize until something warm and solid got draped around her shoulders. Surprised, she looked up at him. “Thank you.” An aromatic whiff of sandalwood and spice caught her nose as she clasped at the lapels to keep the fabric up.

As she adjusted the large jacket, Pepper peeked inside at the stitched label. “'Giorgio Armani for Bruce Wayne'. Looks like you really made it, Brix. Even top designers are head over heels for you.” His face took on an almost pained expression. “Gina, all of this... all _this_... it's not... me. It's... inside, I am... more.” Confused as to where his mood shift had come from, she reached out, mindful of not letting his jacket slip down.

“Hey, I was just kidding. I'm sorry if I offended you.” Bruce looked at her hand resting on his biceps with a thoughtful expression. “Do you know what's strange? I can still remember the last conversation we've had. Back then. Before I left.” Pepper tilted her head and slid her hand along his white button-down shirt before she took it away. “It was not a pleasant conversation.” The corners of his mouth twitched in meek amusement.  
  
“It wasn't.”

When he remained silent, Pepper followed his line of view across the New Yorker skyline. “Looking back, do you wish you would've stayed?” Bruce gave what sounded like a small sigh and stopped gazing out into the night. “No. There's... only one thing I wish I would've done.” His eyes found and held hers. The certain glint in them made it impossible for her to look away. “What would that be?”

A large palm came up to cup her cheek.  
“This.”  
Her breath quickened as he leaned in.

Too shocked at the first contact of his warm and soft lips, she forgot to close her eyes. Bruce tasted of iced tea and a faint trace of salt as he gently applied a little pressure, but did not intrude further. Looking at his close-up features like in a state of trance, she then saw his eyes flutter open. In an instant, he drew back, together with an audible intake of breath. Something like contrite flashed over his face.  
  
“Sorry, that was... impetuous of me.”  
Mouth still tingling, Pepper ran her tongue across her lips and swallowed.  
“It... well, no. It just was so... unexpected from you.”

He backed off to give her some space and moved over to lean on the balustrade, arms crossed. “I've never seen the little sister in you, Gina.” From the way she was now able to study his profile, Pepper watched the wind play with his hair. After their ride in the convertible, it defied its previous gelled back rigor and hung partly over his forehead. She hid an embarrassed laugh behind her palm.

“God, Brix, I had such a crush on you at Princeton, but you never... I don't know...” He gave a little, awkward sounding huff and braced himself against the lithic railing. “I never latched on to it?” Pepper snorted. “Exactly. I mean, for all I knew, you could've been gay. Or into busty cheerleaders. Or an asexual.” Her list made him chuckle. “I guess you're right. I could've been many things.”  
  
He studied the back of his hands for a moment.  
“But maybe I was just scared.”  
The look he cast her spoke of vulnerability.

Paired with the air of raw strength he inhabited, it made for a strange combination. Pepper felt a rush of warmth run through her body. She then slid the jacket off her shoulders to place it on the broad balustrade. Bruce straightened up and looked at her. "It's only the fears you don't face which become your limits.” His hazel eyes grew soft when she traced an imaginary line along his jawbone with her finger.  
  
Their second kiss had her eyes closed right from the start.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of Bruce's lines taken from the 'Batman Begins' script (the stammered one, haha)
> 
> Chapter title refers to the song from The Cars (1984)


	4. Wrecking Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, what have I done..

There were few things in her life Pepper Potts was not proud of.  
Ashamed even.  
Leaving the St. Regis at 4:26 am was ranking high among them.  
  
As she stood in the corridor, shoulders hunched and kept on stealing glimpses left and right to make sure no one saw her escape, she thought back to the past few hours. Things, of course, had not ended with a simple kiss on the terrace. And she had to admit it had been her own, prolific actions which eventually made Bruce lift her up and carry her into his master bedroom, arousal palpable against her hips.

From that moment on, things became nothing short of awkward. While their intimate encounter may not have been bad per se, it had also been far from mind-shattering either. For all of the many magnificent, physical assets Bruce Wayne, in fact, possessed, it had baffled Pepper to come to find out just how utterly inexperienced and clueless he seemed to be when it came to making use of them.  
  
With him on top of her, supporting his weight on his elbows, it culminated in one of the most mechanical missionary performances she had ever participated in. After a surprisingly long period of stamina on his part, the sound he made when he came was near soundless, almost embarrassed. Never one for faking things, Pepper tried to quench the feel of ending up bereft after he had disposed of the condom.

They lay side by side in silence afterward, listening to the sounds of the city through the open terrace doors, until Pepper must have drifted off at some point. She woke a little later, feeling cold, disoriented and groggy, and found Bruce next to her, on his stomach, head turned the other way, fast asleep. The blanket was at his hips, and for a while, she watched the rise and fall of his muscular back.  
  
A sharp pang of regret flooded her reeling mind. It was enough to make her grab her clothes and sneak out of his suite at an ungodly hour, casting a final, rueful look over at his naked form sprawled out under the sheets. With her high heels dangling from her fingers, she tiptoed through the vast royal suite until the elevator doors closed behind her.

They were back on her feet as she left the lobby as dignified as possible, mind replaying Bruce's 'Pretty Woman' comment. From where she stood freezing in the early morning air, trying to hail a taxi, she was on the verge of throwing up. In the end, Pepper Potts caught both a cab and a cold before she left New York with a dreadful feeling of guilt. She never heard from Bruce Wayne again for the rest of 2007.

* * *

Fate had it only half a year later, in 2008, that Tony went missing right after her birthday.   
  
It was then that Pepper's whole life changed in the blink of an eye. For the upcoming weeks, she was running on autopilot, not having a purpose for being Mister Stark's personal assistant anymore. James Rhodes promised her to keep on looking for their friend in Afghanistan, but there was dread in his voice whenever he had to report back to her without any positive kind of news.

In between countless emails from business partners, there was one mail that got her heart up in arms the most. No one else but the man she had left back in New York without notice had sent what was basically a standardized text bordering on condolences, and a superfluous offer of support between two large billion-dollar companies that did not really share much of a common ground apart from being owned by wealthy heirs.

A gesture of goodwill.

All desperate, Pepper nearly broke down sobbing behind her desk nonetheless, her mind swirling with pent-up guilt for a friendship gone wrong, and the always-present, constantly nagging fear for Tony's life. She tried to call Bruce up at his office at Wayne Tower two days after receiving the mail; left several messages with his assistant, telling her that Gina Potts would like him to call back, but he never did.

She still made a point in coming to SI's headquarters each day at 7 am sharp, sitting in her office to take care of the endless flow of emails that were forwarded from Tony's account to hers, until one early Tuesday morning, someone from reception announced an unplanned visitor.

“Miss Potts? A Mister Wayne is here to see you.”

In less than ten minutes he stood in front of her desk, hands in the pockets of his pants, looking like he just stepped right out of a GQ fashion spread. Not a single hair was out of place, just as there was no visible emotion whatsoever playing on his even features. His dark gray business suit and the impeccable combo of tie, shirt, belt, and shoes most likely had the net worth of a midsize SUV.

“Good morning.”

He did look far more haggard than the last time they parted ways, however, if she was able to gauge the depth of the wrinkles between his brows. Frowning seemed to be a staple for him these days, combined with a stern, almost angry tug around the mouth that, while not new, had become even more severe. Pepper wondered how much her own actions had contributed to that in the past months.

She stood up in a brisk move and busied her hands by smothering down the wrinkles in her skirt. Bruce's scrutiny never wavered as she walked around the desk, and she refrained from attempting to initiate a welcoming hug or handshake. Instead, she brushed at an invisible strand of hair and forced herself to meet his gaze.  
  
“Good... good morning. I tried to call you a few times, but...”  
Those hazel eyes bore into hers like they would be able to cut through granite.  
“I've been busy recently.”

His icy baritone was also something she had never experienced before. Pepper then made an awkward gesture towards the little bar in the corner. “Please, have a... have a seat. Can I offer you something? Coffee? Tea? Water?” A brisk shake of his head, and she stopped, mid-stride. “I don't have much time. I just came to see if you needed any help.” A little, fake-sounding laugh escaped her lips.

“Oh, no, I mean... as of now, we're still hoping – it's been eight weeks... they are still out there, searching for him...” Her voice started to sound overly artificial, so she stopped and snapped her mouth shut. “Rumor has it they are preparing to have him declared dead soon.” Bruce's emotionless statement caused her to gasp out softly. “What? No! No one is planning on doing that!”  
  
That stern mouth of his moved into a snide smirk. “Anyway. Whatever happens, just make sure you're not getting the short end of the stick.” The soft material of his business suit rustled as he extended his hand. Pepper took a deep breath and unconsciously squared her shoulders before she clasped his fingers. They were well manicured but uncomfortably cold; his palm calloused.

“Thank you, Brix. For coming round. This... really means a lot.”  
His eyes were still as hard and brittle as when he had entered.  
“You're welcome, Pepper.”

Pepper. Not Gina.  
It stung more than all of his coldness combined.  
Deep down inside, she knew she very well deserved it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by that one song from Miley everyone knows (and may even hate with a passion)
> 
> Also, I blame (read: thank) black_queen for putting the initial sharp-toothed plot bunny to this chapter in my head.. you don't know it yet my dear, but you have unleashed hell on this story ;D


	5. Who's Crying Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just what the title says.

The return of Tony Stark after three months of captivity made her forget about anything else for time being.

Things had changed with the dark-haired billionaire, for better or for worse, and Pepper often found him watching her with something in his eyes she had never noticed before. With him building his iron legacy and giving his existence a new purpose, she, too, went and reconfigured her own life's choices. Full of courage, Pepper decided to usher in an invitation to Mister Wayne's butler, asking for dinner with the Gothamite.

Even if Bruce did not reply to her in person, the man called Alfred was polite enough to accept on his employer's behalf only a few days later. One Friday night in June, at 8 pm sharp, Pepper Potts sat at the bar of the posh Jean-Georges restaurant in New York, waiting. At 8:15, she downplayed her nervousness by ordering an aperitif and tried hard not to glimpse at the clock on the wall every ten seconds.

Commotion at the entrance at 8:30 got her to stop swirling the olive stick in her martini around. Someone loud and brazen had the service manager and his staff up in arms, and for a split second, Pepper thought back to the old Tony Stark and his womanizing, playboy ways. It was, however, the very Bruce Wayne who had just arrived; fashionably late, but in no hurry to make up for the lost time.

When he entered the restaurant, she could see something was off from far away. The swagger in his stride was all wrong. So was the tall and exotic brunette by his side. Bruce graced her with a big, exuberant smile full of white teeth as he stepped up to her. “Beg your pardon, but I got caught up in traffic.” The simper he cast over at his female company gave Pepper a pretty good idea just what kind of traffic he referred to.

“Moryasha's editorial shoot took longer than expected, and by now we're almost famished.” His hand snug around the model's slim waist and squeezed. “Never mind, I just – well, I've only made reservations for two.” Pepper's faux regret was met with a nonchalant grin. “Ah, no problem at all.” Bruce raised an arm and snapped his fingers loud enough for everybody around to hear. “They know who I am around here.”

He made a few unmistakable gestures at the waiter, and Pepper's ears began to turn red with embarrassment. Nevertheless, she put up her best professional smile and got up to follow the maître d' over to another bigger booth with more privacy. She made a point in claiming the bench seat, seeing Bruce got out of his way to pull the chair for his company. The model looked around in awe. "I've never been here before."

Pepper was about to mention the usual hardship that came with making reservations, but Bruce beat her to an answer. “Ah well, it's not _that_ nice. Their foie gras terrine is downright awful.” He brandished a hand around with a supercilious and bored expression. Pepper picked up the menu, to resist the urge of dumping her seltzer over his head, and said nothing.

No sooner than the three of them went to order their respective dishes, it left the redhead no choice but to ignore the rumbling of her stomach and instead also settle for a meager salad like her female counterpart. The Gothamite then leaned back, unbuttoned his jacket, and stretched out his arm over the backrest of Moryasha's chair. “Gina and I are old college friends. From Princeton.”

The young woman in her early twenties, while beautiful, seemed to be of rather simple nature. The way she had wormed her hand in between Bruce's thighs even before dinner almost made Pepper get up and slap her right across the face. “Ohhh, you've studied at Princeton, Brucie? What did you study?” His face took on a self-complacent note. The hand behind Moryasha lightly brushed along her arm.  
  
“Boring financial stuff, just to make sure I would know how to juggle the big money these days.”  
  
The model made a cooing sound, only to giggle immediately after, and Pepper put down her wine. “If you two would excuse me for a moment.” Without waiting for anybody's consent, she grabbed her clutch and made a beeline for the restrooms. Moryasha's stupid giggle followed her, accompanied by the even more inane laughter of the billionaire as he most likely had told another obnoxious anecdote.

After dabbing her burning cheeks with cold, wet paper towels, Pepper brushed down the front of her dress and straightened her shoulders with renewed strength. Determined to make it out of the restaurant and back to her hotel, she was unprepared for Bruce Wayne leaning in the open doorway of the secluded restroom area, arms crossed over his broad chest, blocking her way.

“This is a real bad habit you've taken up there.”

His tone was mocking, even if his eyes were glacial. Raising her chin in a provoking manner, Pepper made a move to flip her clutch open and started to pull out her wallet. “I actually wanted to pay at the entrance, but I may as well give it to you now, seeing you and Moryasha are clearly planning on staying some more, for dessert and such.” His face darkened even further at the two $100 bills she held out into his direction.

“Stop embarrassing both of us here, Pepper.”

Her blue eyes flashed with fury and she jabbed a well-manicured finger at him. “No, _you_ stop. You've got no right to call me that. Absolutely _no_ right at all! And as for embarrassing - look who's talking here.” At the way her voice rose, his jaw started to work, and he took a sharp glance around for any eavesdroppers. With a haughty expression, Pepper then put her money back and crammed the clutch under her arm.

His mouth turned grim. “I wasn't the one who upped and left without a word.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “You're right, you weren't. But you've gone and made your point tonight. Very clearly, too, I must say. Looks like you've truly worked hard on becoming _more_ on the inside.” In a flash, his hand clasped around her arm and yanked her towards him. From close up, he smelled of expensive fragrance and faint ginger ale.

“You don't know a goddamn thing about me.”  
  
His eyes were dark and blazing; his voice dangerously low. Pepper winced and looked down at his vise-like grip. “You're hurting me.” He immediately let go of her and stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “Am I now.” Those three words were followed by a bitter snort. Pepper tsked and freed her clutch again to point it at him like a weapon. “You never wanted me to get to know you!”

By now, his aggressive energy had evaporated enough for him to smirk with spite. “How could I when you're acting up like a child?” She laughed out loud, once. “Says the man who sleeps with high fashion Lolitas.” Bruce's eyes narrowed. “Most of them beg to stay the night.” He looked at her with so much petulance that she had to refrain hard from slapping the hurtful smugness off his face.

Pepper Potts, however, did nothing of that kind. Instead, she sobered up, steeled her features and deliberately looked him up and down in slow motion. Eventually, her left eyebrow arched up in the most condescending manner possible. “Good for you, _Brucie_. How very good for you. All the best and good night.” With the blood pulsating loudly in her ears, Pepper then turned on her heel and started walking.

Reaching the glass front of the main entrance, she could see his reflection in the panels. Against her initial fear, he made no move to follow her. Even before she had reached the door, he was gone from her view. As soon as she was back at her room at the Four Season's she headed straight for the shower, scrubbing the dirty feeling of the evening from her pores until her skin was red and blotched.

Under the large rainforest shower head, Pepper eventually allowed the tears of anger and sorrow to fall.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by yet another song from Journey (1981)


	6. Hurricane

In 2010, Iron Man was an established superhero known all over the world, Pepper Potts became CEO of Stark Industries overnight, and her and Tony's relationship hovered in a strange, professional-yet-something-else limbo neither was courageous enough to expand. When Natalie Rushman appeared on the scene, keen on taking on both her old PA job and Mister Stark, Pepper decided to drop the topic of wayward billionaires.

Then came their trip Monaco; a turning point for all of them. Pepper had thought watching Tony drive his own race car was bad enough for her nerves, but she should stand corrected as she found herself sitting on the backseat of the Rolls Royce, screaming her heart out as a whip-wielding madman attacked Tony as well as Happy and her in the limousine.

To the eyes of thousands of spectators, both on-site and on television, Iron Man eventually sprang into action and forced down their attacker in a brutal close combat. While sirens howled all over the racetrack, Pepper sat holding her head in her hands and tried to block out all sounds and images. Back at the Hotel de Paris, she thought she was going to throw up as an aftermath of the shock and hurried upstairs to her suite.

She headed straight for the bathroom and hunkered down in front of the toilet at an awkward angle because of her tight Dior dress. Nothing came out as she tried to retch, so after a few minutes, she straightened back up, flushed nonetheless, and regarded herself in the wall-size mirror. The polka-dotted dress was coated in dust and soot, and her meticulous chignon had come loose during the car chase and crash.

The makeup she had applied early in the morning was smeared, her mascara runny both from sweat and tears. Pepper had not even noticed herself crying, and she took a deep breath when the prickling feeling began to rise up from behind her eyeballs in clear, conscious waves at that point. She gripped the rim of the sink tight and took a few, deep breaths to calm herself.

Tony had gone to the police station, together with Happy, to see about the maniac who had been in possession of something so terrifyingly close to ending their lives. He let her know via text it was bound to take some time with the authorities, seeing neither of them spoke French properly. Pepper did not mind the solitude; she was bone-tired and at the same time agitated beyond belief.

Yearning for nothing but peace and calmness, she took a long, hot shower and retreated to her queen-size bed, to try and sleep her full-blown headache off. Her daze was flooded with pictures - the destruction of Tony's race car as the madman sliced it into pieces, how Happy had swerved around formula one cars going down the track in the wrong way, saw herself clutching the Iron Man suitcase tight to her chest.

Explosions going off then made her snap her eyes back open. For a few heartbeats, Pepper listened to the distorted sound of her own breathing. No fire, soot, or debris. Only silence. Silence and a quiet, ringing sound. It came from the hotel's phone on her nightstand. She blinked owlishly into the semi-dark at the nearby alarm clock and made a clumsy move to reach for the receiver.

Her voice almost failed her at first, rough from inhaling smoke on the racetrack, and she cleared it.

“Hello?”

“Gina? Is that you?”

“Y... yes.”

The man on the other end exhaled audibly.  
“I've just seen the news. Are you alright? Are you hurt in any way?”  
Feeling foggy and disoriented she tried to shift onto the side, pressing the receiver closer to her ear.

“Y-yes, erm... no. I think we all got lucky, it's still a bit... I don't know...”  
Bruce Wayne interrupted her incoherent stammering with a firm, but gentle statement.  
“Listen, I'm coming for you. I'm in Nice at the moment. Give me an hour, okay? Hm? Gina?”

Upon her lack of response, his tone became more insistent. Pepper felt the tears run down from behind closed eyes to soak her pillow. Her throat felt constricted all of a sudden; cheeks flushed as if she had caught the flu. She nodded to herself before remembered to speak under her breath.

“... okay.”

About forty minutes later, there was a knock on her door.   
  
Having fallen asleep again, albeit uneasy, Pepper made a halfhearted attempt at finger-combing her washed but unkempt hair in a nearby mirror and tugged the bathrobe tighter around her attire of shirt and shorts before she opened.  They stared at each other without a word at first, all the while Bruce's distressed eyes roamed over her face and body, scanning her for any visible injuries.   
  
Pepper forced a brave smile on her face and stepped aside to let him in. As soon as the door clicked shut, her final barriers came crashing down. He opened his arms the second she flung herself at him, shivering from head to toe. His grip was strong but careful as he held her tight, buried his face in her hair, and murmured her name over and over like a desperate conjuration. 

Bruce smelled of sunscreen, wind, and something familiar, and it calmed her down enough so that he loosened his grip and held her at arms' length. Embarrassed at her puffy face and humiliating getup, Pepper wiped a too large sleeve over her face and sniveled. “This is actually not how I pictured our reunion to be.” A large palm moved up to brush some strands out of her face, cupping the side of her head.  
  
“I cannot lose you, too. I've lost too much already. I've lost... too many.”  
  
Something out of her perception was in his gaze, his eyes holding a glazed-over look, almost as if he was caught up in another situation, speaking to someone else. At the massive desperation in his quiet admission, she lifted her arms to interlink them in his neck and squeezed his nape a few times. “No, but I'm here. I am _here_ , Brix. And I'll be here tomorrow, and the day after.” 

He blinked a few times until the far-away, haunted look in his eyes was gone. As soon as he was back in the present, his features morphed into their usual, stoic facade. “I'll see about getting a room somewhere close by.” She felt him trying to draw away and refastened her hold. Confused he looked at her. Pepper gave a diffident smile. “Stay. For tonight. Just... hold me. Please?”

Ten minutes later, she was pressed up against his warm, broad chest under the covers and felt his fingers running soothing circles on her upper arm, just below the hem of her t-shirt. Bruce's heartbeat was steady in her ear. “I have a lot to apologize for.” Pepper's voice was drowsy as she forced down a yawn. In the dim light of dusk, his head moved until he was able to look at her. “We never needed that in the past.”

From where her hand rested curled up against his side, Pepper's fingers traced along a scabbed, circular lesion on his stomach. “But what about the present? Or the future?” He shifted, trying to escape her fingers' probing scrutiny. “We'll figure something out.” She wanted to sigh but was unable to repress the yawning reflex a second time. Out of nowhere, a soft kiss got pressed to her forehead.  
  
“Try to get some rest now.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from the song by Thirty Seconds to Mars (2009)


	7. Don't Be So Shy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was massive, so I had to split it up. These two are ruining my life.

The next morning, Pepper woke with a start at the sound of Tony's voice and knock on her door. She sat up straight in bed only to realize she was alone; Bruce was gone without a trace. 

A folded piece of paper sat on her nightstand, however, so she grabbed and hid it in the pocket of her bathrobe before she hurried to answer the door. “Hey there sleepy head, it's almost 11 am.” Tony looked showered and shaved but sported a black eye as well as some bruises on his face.

He wore a rueful smile and looked as if he wanted to hug her, but did not. “I had to stay at the police station until 5 am. The guy's Russian, a psycho, and doesn't want to talk any which language so far.” Stark exhaled and regarded her from head to toe. “How are you? Did you sleep?” She nodded. “Do you need me to pack and get to the airfield?” Tony shook his head and scratched at his nape.

“Nah, they said we cannot leave the country until tomorrow - at the earliest. A translator's coming round at 2.”

Taken aback at the prospect of being stuck in Monaco, Pepper rubbed her forehead. “This whole thing is a nightmare.” At the distress in her voice, his expression turned grave. “You're entitled to a vacation, you know, as CEO, so why don't you, uh...” He made a forwarding gesture with his hand. “... take the remaining days off while we're here? They've got your witness statement already. I'll deal with the rest.” She glared at him.

“The whole city-state saw what happened yesterday! Do you really think I could go and relax at any beach or yacht anywhere around here, Tony?” When she looked him square in the eye she saw the fatigue radiating off of him in palpable ways. Feeling guilty for unleashing her foul mood upon him, Pepper sent him off with the order to get some more rest before she meandered through her suite and opened the balcony door.

As she gazed out at the coastline, she remembered the little note and dug into her pocket. It turned out to be a single line, written on posh ivory-colored stationery from the Grand-Hôtel du Cap-Ferrat Côte d’Azur. _'Didn't want to cause any trouble. Give me a call. B.'_ A string of digits underneath indicated a mobile number with an international area code.  
  
Bruce answered after two rings, inquired about her well-being once again, and suggested dinner at his place.  
Pepper gnawed at her lip, calculated the short distance between them, and eventually agreed.  
Vacation might still be an option after all.

* * *

As it turned out, Bruce had his own villa next to the grand hotel.

Hidden within hectares of pine trees and fragrant gardens, the huge premises of Villa Rose-Pierre were breathtaking. Pepper stood at the main gate, dressed in a blue Ralph Lauren shirt dress and espadrilles, and admired the view when a voice shook her out of her reverie. “You're early.” Movement from the garden erupted as Bruce made his way over to open the gate and greet her.

He was dressed in a casual combo of black shirt and shorts, and it was the first time she noticed a slight limp in his stride. She smiled back at him. “Less than ten miles by car.” They embraced amicably before she looked down at his bare shins. “What happened to your leg?” His smile became endearing and deflective as he took her hand and led her through the garden, across a small wooden bridge over a pond filled with water lilies.

“Busted my knee two weeks ago. Sports accident. Nothing too serious. Now, I hope you are hungry.” He pointed ahead to where a table for two was set underneath the trees, candles flickering in the soft summer breeze. “Starved actually.” She smiled up at him to which he gave a gentle squeeze to her fingers. After she was seated, he took the opposite chair and regarded her with undecipherable eyes for a few heartbeats.

“What would you like to drink?”  
Pepper leaned back, blew out her cheeks, and crossed her legs.  
“After the past 48 hours, I'd very much kill for a dirty martini with a minimum of three olives.”

The smile he still wore became diffuse, but once a discreet young butler came over to serve them, he passed on her request in perfect French. The man, most likely of Moroccan descent, soon returned with her drink and another glass, filled with an amber liquid, for the Gothamite. They toasted each other over the table.

“To... us. To us, and the past twelve years.”  
Bruce left it at that, prompting Pepper to raise both her eyebrows in a daring manner.  
“And to many more to come.”

Something like incertitude flittered over his features in the twilight of an early dusk, but he was quick to mask it with a smirk and a nod. Their glasses clinked softly and they each took a sip. Feeling the need to start up a light conversation, Pepper then leaned forward and put her elbows up on the table. “I've been meaning to ask you since yesterday: How come you are in France this time of the year?”

Thankful for her initiative, Bruce put the tumbler aside and leaned back in his chair. “I'm taking a little time off from work and Gotham at the moment. A... vacation, if you will.” Pepper nodded along. “I've read about the deal with Lau Investment Holding that's been called off. Wise decision by the way.” Bruce simply shrugged; his face a blank canvas.

Before he got a chance to elaborate, however, the butler approached them again, carrying two plates filled with steaming food. Wayne reached for his napkin. “I hope you like tarragon chicken.” After she had placed her napkin on her lap, she smirked at him. “Well, there's no TGI Friday fries, but it'll do.” The grin they shared caused a sharp feeling recognition to stir up within her; of times she had believed to be long gone.

As expected, the food was excellent, and she voiced her appreciation after the first two bites. Content about his choice, Bruce seemed to become visibly more at ease. “I'm starting to look into clean energy projects as of late.” She looked up from her plate. “Really? That's a fantastic idea, Brix. Ever since Tony has shut down weapon’s manufacturing, we've been trying to advance in on the green market ourselves.”

His eyes held a sudden, keen glint. “Your boss...” She tilted her head. “What about Tony?” Bruce gave a sparse smile. “Does he know where you are?” Pepper placed her fork aside and reached for her glass. She had been surprised to find no alcoholic beverages being served during the main course but was pleased when he offered to get some wine. She took a swig from her second glass of Cabernet Sauvignon and smacked her lips.  
  
“I told him I needed to get out of town after all the hassle. Still,  have to be back in the States soon.” He sipped his seltzer and looked thoughtful. “His public persona comes at a high cost, it seems.” Pepper smiled, more to herself, and emptied her wine. “Despite everything, Tony now has a social conscience.” His long fingers traced the delicate ornaments of his crystal tumbler, eyes following their motions.

“The road to redemption is seldom straight.” Bruce then took a deep breath and blinked upwards, only to find her gaze already on him. “Gina, there's something I wanted to talk to you about. Your Tony and his whole Iron Man getup...” She interrupted him by shaking her head, standing up, and putting her used napkin aside all at once. “Brix?” His eyes followed her as she walked into his direction with a knowing smile and swaying hips.  
  
“Yes?”  
Pepper then took the glass from his hand and put it on the table behind her.  
“Let's not talk about Tony anymore.”

Without warning she threw one leg over his lap and sat down, straddling him. Even before he got over his stupor she leaned in, cupped his cheeks, and kissed him square on a surprised set of lips. A small, muffled noise escaped the back of his throat, and he attempted to draw his head back at the same time he dropped his arms. “Gina – ... don't.” She interlinked her hands in his nape, cocked her head, and pouted at him.  
  
“Why? Because I'm a li'l tipsy?” Her eyes twinkled full of intoxicated bravado. He blinked at her a few times, then swallowed once. “No.” Bruce's arms still hung limply at his sides. Pepper brushed her hair to one side and licked her lips. “Oh, but I won't run away again. This isn't New York. We're gonna make magic tonight, I can feel it.” Again she dipped her chin low to kiss him but had to go for his throat when he turned his face away.

After feeling her nuzzle into his skin for the longest time, Bruce eventually cleared his throat. “I'm going to get you into bed now.” She purred as he got to his feet and hoisted her up in one swift, effortless motion. “You're so sssstrong, Brix. Ssstrong 'n handsome. Have I ever told you jus' how attractive you are? How sexy? Cause you are. Real sexy.” Her praising list expanded further. He responded with an occasional, noncommittal “Mhm”.

Pepper's bare legs crossed in the small of his back as Bruce carried her inside and up the stairs into one of the villa's many guestrooms. There, he eased her down onto the mattress with care and pried her hands off his neck. “There's a glass of water on the nightstand. Sleep in as long as you like, I'll see you in the morning.” Despite her condition, she managed to catch a handful of his t-shirt and tugged with all her might.  
  
“You'renotstaying?”  
He brushed the knuckle of an index finger along her temple and gave a soft, barely-there smile.  
“I'm not. Good night, Gina.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by the song from Imany (from the 2014 album 'Sous Les Jupes Des Filles')
> 
> Location mentioned in this chapter:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XD-2h6qCPsY


	8. Hold On

Truth to be told, Pepper did not remember much the next day, apart from finding out she had fallen asleep in her dress and -from the mascara specks on the crisp, white pillow- even her makeup. The headache that greeted her as soon as she opened her eyes, however, reminded her, and she pulled the covers over her head. After a few mumbled curses, she dared a second try and inched the blanket back.

The faint sunlight that streamed into the room from behind closed blinds was still bright enough to make her wince and groan. She emptied the glass of water to her left in three gulps and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. “Great job, Potts.” Pondering her choices, Pepper eventually got up and headed for the bathroom en-suite to try for damage control. Brushing her teeth helped, as did taking a shower.

The little antique alarm clock on the shelf told her it was 09:52, so she hurried up. Dressed in a bathrobe, she unlocked the door, only to stop and stare. Her bed had been made in her absence, and a large rectangular, orange-colored box sat right upon it. Recognizing the Hermes logo even from afar, Pepper sharply inhaled; her dull migraine forgotten for the moment.

When she dared to lift the lid, a simple, yet beautiful white linen dress with matching lingerie greeted her.

At first, she just stared at it, hesitant to take it out of the silken wrapping paper. She knew she could not keep Bruce waiting any longer, however, and undid the belt of her bathrobe with determination. With her own set of used clothes stowed away in the empty Hermes box for proper transport, Pepper unmuted her mobile and checked her inbox. Much to her relief, there were no horrendous news from either Tony or Happy.

Head still spinning, she tiptoed down a set of marble stairs, where the Moroccan butler wished her a good morning and told her that Monsieur Wayne was out on the patio, waiting for her. Thanking him in French, Pepper made her way over to a vast terrace on the first floor, glad for her sunglasses. Bruce sat at a sumptuously set, but still untouched breakfast table with his back towards her, talking on the phone.

Much to her surprise, his conversation was held in French. It flowed at such a fast pace that her foggy mind was unable to follow. He gestured along with a hand in mid-air, pausing from time to time to run his fingers through his hair. He still must have felt her presence, because he looked over his shoulder just then, took in her appearance, and smiled in between a tight set of lips, even as he continued to speak into the receiver.

Bruce then cut the call short, placed the mobile aside on the table, and stood up as she came closer. As opposed to the prior evening, he now was dressed in a business casual combo of beige chinos paired with a brown belt, matching penny loafers, and a light blue button-down shirt he had rolled up at the sleeves. Nothing on his face showcased any kind of feelings about the previous incidents.

“Good morning.”  
Pepper's mouth twisted in pain and she suppressed the urge to touch her temples.  
“Ugh. Good morning. I deserve a lot worse for yesterday than this. Thank you. You shouldn't have.”

She pointed down to where the dress fit her like a glove without being indecent. He pursed his lips with a cryptic expression. “No you don't - you're more than welcome, and I totally should have. You look nice.” With a weak slap to his forearm, Pepper slouched past and took the seat opposite of him under the sunshade, removing her glasses. “Charmer.” She eyed the rich selection of fruit, cereals, and croissants and sighed.

“The last opportunity I have to enjoy a real French breakfast with you, and I'm feeling run over by a truck.” She thanked the butler for serving her a glass of freshly squeezed juice, and took a first, probing sip. “Only good thing about a hangover is that it makes for a ravenous appetite.” Bruce grinned and reached out to hold a little wicker basket filled with croissants into her direction.  
  
“Knock yourself out.”  
His cheekiness earned him a deadly if a bit teasing glare.  
“Bad choice of words.”

The Gothamite's eyes held an uncommon affectionate twinkle at the way she relished the first few bites. Pepper hurried to wipe some flaky pastry off her cheek and nodded when he hovered a sterling silver coffee pot over her cup. “I'm sorry for last night. I only have a vague, but shameful recollection. I bet it was embarrassing.” He stirred the spoon in his own, black coffee a few times before raising the china to his lips.  
  
“Nothing to be sorry for. Besides, we didn't want to do that, remember?” She put the knife with butter and French marmalade aside to add a splash of milk to her coffee. “ _You_ didn't want to, Brix. I always want to be held accountable for my actions and get an opportunity to redeem myself.” From where he had been busy buttering a piece of toast, Bruce stopped to look up at her face; dead serious all of a sudden.

“Maybe this is a good time to...”  
His eyes held a flicker of irritation as her cellphone on the table started to ring.  
“... you might want to get that first, though.”

All apologetic, Pepper swallowed her coffee and put the phone to her ear. She turned to the side as Tony began to douse her in a stream of information, which she responded to with yes or no answers. “So when is the jet going to be ready today? No. No, I can't make that.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Bruce starting to eat, glimpsing at the latest issue of Le Parisien while he waited for her to be done.

“Okay. Tony? Tony, can we discuss this... yes, but – later. Okay. Bye.” She fished her handbag off the nearby chair and dumped the phone inside. “His timing is priceless.” Bruce lowered the newspaper and curled his lips. “When does your plane leave?” A glimpse at her watch, then Pepper massaged her temples and sighed audibly. “In an hour.” She picked up her knife again.  
  
“I'm sorry I interrupted you. You were about to say...?”  
At her curious gaze, he shrugged and graced her with a smile.  
“I forgot. It'll come back at some point. Another croissant?”

* * *

Half an hour later, they stood at the main gate and said their goodbyes. Pepper squinted at him from close up but kept her hands to herself. “Something's troubling you.” The corners of his mouth twitched. “Seeing you leave.” His hand then reached out to brush at a strand of her hair, almost cautious. She took it as an invitation to spread her arms and pull him into a real hug.

He responded not as crushing as in Monaco, but rather tender before he drew back after a polite, few seconds. She examined his countenance for another few seconds, tilting her head. “You're a bad liar, Brix.” Her tone was teasing, but those hazel eyes of his seemed to blaze up nonetheless. “If only.” Her face must have spoken volumes, so he was quick to amend to his slip of the tongue with a crooked smile.

Out of nowhere, Bruce then leaned in and pecked her lips. “Have a safe flight home. We'll stay in touch.” When she sat on the Stark Industries' bizliner later that day, Pepper had to resist the urge to gag when Tony presented her with his very own creation of an in-flight meal. It caused him to sulk in his seat opposite of her for the rest of the flight, and her to try and sleep her remaining hangover off.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Colbie Caillat's song (2014)


	9. I See Fire

After Monaco, Tony became even more withdrawn and eccentric. The drunk shenanigans he pulled at his big birthday bash were, in some way, the sad culmination of everything that had been wrong between him and her lately. It resulted in the worst quarrel in their long history of working relationship and had them on incommunicado for a week afterward.

When he had the audacity to show up at her office, a huge basket of strawberries in his hands, Pepper was uncompromising and on vestigial sympathy for his ill-fated efforts. “I have taken the liberty to invite Bruce Wayne to the Expo tomorrow night. We need all the good press we can get.” The corners of his mouth turned even more south as he let the basket in his hand sink.

“To watch Hammer's presentation? That's likely to be nothing but _bad_ press.” Pepper tipped both ends of her Mont Blanc pen on the desk in a steady motion while she fixated him with an almost icy glare. “It's a fixed appointment. I don't expect _you_ to show up, however. I can handle this event just fine.” Tony took all of her remonstrance in stride. Eventually, he shrugged.

“Yeah, okay, I mean... whatever. But seriously? That Gotham dude? There's no need for all the hoopla. He didn't want in before. Why now?” Her lips curled in determination. “I think we might have been able to renegotiate on that one.” His eyes met hers and lingered on. After a while, something like realization spread out over his face, darkening them further.

“Oh, I... see.”

Tony turned his back on her to throw the innocent strawberries into the trash can by the door with venom. What little conversation Pepper attempted to have with him after that became nothing but obnoxious, leaving her no choice but to walk out on him at some point.

* * *

Pepper's mood only started to lift again later that afternoon, at the prospect of her upcoming visitor. She and Bruce met up at the VIP reception area of the Expo's main conference center, giving reporters, paparazzi and journalists a worthwhile show as the CEO of Stark Industries welcomed her Gotham counterpart. His public billionaire persona on full display, Bruce pulled out all stops as he kissed her hand upon greeting.

With utmost professional delight, they posed side by side for countless pictures as the shutters clicked wild. No one could explain the chemistry between them; least of all deny its presence. At some point, Wayne and Potts then excused themselves to leave for their seats inside the huge glass pavilion. Sitting framed by Bruce and her assistant Natalie, Pepper released a breath and allowed herself to relax.  
  
While Justin Hammer grooved his way up on stage, she found her thoughts starting to stray. Tony apparently had taken her advice to heart and was nowhere in sight. The auditorium was filled to the brim with press and guests alike, marking Stark Expo as a representative event which the company's reputation could truly benefit from. Next to her sat a handsome man whom she was going out for dinner with later on.  
  
It could have been a night to remember. Not even half an hour later, however, everything went straight to hell in the blink of an eye. In no time, lots of shooting Hammer drones were swarming the fairgrounds, and people ran away screaming in horror and fright. While Tony headed off towards a wild goose chase together with Rhodey and several dozen Hammer drones, Natalie and Happy had mysteriously left as well.

Separated from everybody except Bruce, Pepper, therefore, did the first rational thing that came to her mind: She called the police. In no time, NYPD patrols arrived at the scene to have Justin Hammer arrested, and to shut down the 7 train in and out of Willets Point. When Pepper stepped out of the pavilion's back entrance after thanking some officers, Bruce stood waiting for her on the sideline. She blew out her cheeks.

“There will be city buses to ferry people to operating lines. I'll stay until the park is clear.” He nodded. “Okay, no problem.” Surprised, she looked at him. “Oh, but you don't really have to, Brix. This is as awful as it can get.” They walked through the deserted Oracle pavilion, making their way through upturned rows of chairs. He shrugged. “I don't mind.” Pepper groused out loud as she trudged through the chaos.

“I am going to kill him. That's a promise. As soon as he's out of that ridiculous suit, I'll rip his head off.” Not having an answer to that, Bruce remained silent. He walked close by her side, a courteous hand in the small of her back to prevent her from tripping over something in the dark. “Well, tonight was certainly... something.” A slashed up drone laying a few feet away to their left then caught his eye.  
  
“Do these things always blink red?”  
Puzzled, Pepper stopped and followed his pointed finger.  
“I... I don't know.”  
  
She barely had time to hear herself scream out before she was swept off her feet and whirled away by two strong arms. No two seconds later, dozens of explosions went off all around and all at once, as scattered drones everywhere across the fairground detonated in a deafening crescendo, straight out of a war zone. High above them, the multi-faceted glass roof of the pavilion gave a few sickening cracks.

In no time, it shattered into million pieces and rained down onto their heads. Bruce dove deep into the corner of the building's steel frame to seek shelter behind an upturned table, shielding her body with his own. The heat wave that expelled was immense as the fiery inferno washed over them. Still, he held on and pressed her down; creating a little bubble for her to breathe.

After what seemed like an eternity, the screeching of melted metal beams and crushing down concrete started to lessen.  
Once the brunt of the explosion had died down, Bruce raised his head to search the eyes of the woman under him.  
“Gina?”

Pepper was still clawing her hands into his arms; forehead pressed into his chest. In slow motion, she looked up. Her eardrums rang from the deafening explosions, and she rather saw his mouth move than actually heard his voice at first. His face was soot-stained, making the whites of his eyes stand out in an eerie kind of way. His hair hung disheveled all over his face, but he seemed unhurt otherwise.

She nodded, and slowly loosened the deathly grip she had on his biceps. “I'm okay.” He helped her to her feet, steadying her swaying form as the heel of her stiletto broke. Pepper coughed and slipped it off her foot while he shed his completely shredded designer jacket. They looked around, heard the faint crackle of fire, and discovered they were surrounded by a ten-feet wall of solid rubble and debris.

Screeching sounds of metal from the pavilion's unstable remains high above got Bruce to react. “We've got to get out of here before this thing comes crashing down.” His voice left no room to argue. Without asking, he reached out and hoisted her barefooted physique up. “Hold on tight.” Shifting her into a piggyback position, he moved to the nearest pile of metal, cement, and glass, and began to climb.

Concerned, Pepper tried to reason with him. “No, let me down. Please. I can walk.” He pressed out a negative response while pulling them up onto a heavy piece of looming concrete. She closed her eyes, tightened her grip, and felt the solid muscles in his back bulge out from underneath his white button-down shirt as he mounted obstacles like a professional free-climber.

His harsh panting soon mingled with the faraway sounds of wailing sirens. Pepper kept her body still, trying to ease his load and make herself as light as possible. She refrained to open her eyes until she felt Bruce coming to a halt. As he rested on all fours atop a large piece of concrete ledge, head hung low, she realized she had near crushed his windpipe and hurried to take her arms away.

“I sure as hell get down the other side myself.”  
Pepper slid off his back and hunkered down next to him, placing a hand upon his heaving shoulders.  
“You sure won't.”

His voice was a little breathy as he raised his head to look at her. Sweat beaded on his forehead, creating little rivulets that ran down through the sheen of soot and dust that covered his skin. She pulled an incredulous grimace. “I almost strangled you and you didn't even say a word!” At that, he graced her with a wink that was completely out of place. “Not the worst death scenario I can think of.”  
  
His strange humor left her at a loss for words. Bruce exhaled and moved into a squatted position, squaring his shoulders. “Going down is always easier than going up.” With that, he indicated for her to settle on his back once more. Pepper eventually did as she was told; just to get off the unstable pile of debris. She made sure to place her arms across his chest that time, thus giving him space to breathe and maneuver.

As soon as they had solid ground under their feet, an armada of police cars and ambulances with flashing lights welcomed them. “Oh, God. Please let me down before they wheel out the gurneys.” At her whispered groan, he nodded and did as he was told, making no further move to touch or steady her. “Miss Potts! Mister Wayne – are you alright?” Both nodded at the officers coming their way with blankets and first aid kits.  
  
“Where is Mister Stark? Have you seen him? Or Lieutenant Rhodes?” Wrapped into a blanket, Pepper was relieved when they told her both men had radioed in after Vanko's death and were currently helping in a cleanup mission with the NYPD to remove the heavy remains from the explosions all over Flushing Meadows. She told them to inform Tony about her well-being and turned to look at the man by her side.

Bruce had denied both a blanket and medical help; instead, he was telling an officer a story about spelunking. Then she saw the faint red imprints on her bare arms. Fingerprints. And immediately identified their source. “You're bleeding.” With a soft gasp, she looked down at his hands. He brushed his palms against the tattered fabric of his pants and gave a downplaying smile plus shake of the head.

“It's fine.”  
Panic began to bubble close to her surface, and she grabbed his fingers to inspect the damage.  
“No, it's not fine – we've got to get you to a medic! They are going to become infected, and...”  
  
Bruce gently withdrew from her grip and raised her chin to make her look at him instead.  
“Gina.... Gina... listen to me. It's alright. I am fine.”  
His voice was warm and soothing, trying to get through her rapidly forming tunnel vision.  
  
“Let's try to catch a cab, okay?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Ed Sheeran's song (2013)


	10. No Light

Their adrenaline started to bleed out as soon as they slumped onto the backseat of a cab. Bruce sat sprawled out, favoring his left leg, while Pepper rested against his chest, her cold feet drawn up underneath her. Neither felt the need to talk as the taxi sped through the night until it stopped at 30 Park Place Downtown twenty minutes later.

Arms interlinked, they dragged themselves through the secluded entry of the posh Four Season's private residence. An elevator took them up to a condo on the 46th  floor. After the door fell into its lock, Pepper let out a huge breath and looked them both up and down in an opposite, wall-sized mirror. “Shower.” His reflection smirked back at her and the disgust in her voice. “Ladies first.”

To reinforce his suggestion, Bruce walked over to sink down onto one of the designer bar stools at the open kitchen island. Propping an elbow up on the counter, he supported his head on his fist and regarded her with tired fondness. “Don't use up all the hot water though.” With a final glance back, she did as she was told. Even if she left the bathroom door unlocked, he neither followed nor took up her unspoken invitation.

After ten minutes, she turned off the warm torrent and reappeared in the open living room of her loft, dressed in short pajamas. There, she stopped dead in her tracks and stared at the scenery in front. Bruce still sat in the same spot at the bar, but his eyes were closed and his mouth had gone slack. Less than five seconds after her discovery, however, he stirred and blinked her back into view. Pepper smiled at him.

“Bathroom's all yours.” He cracked his neck and slid off the stool, grimacing slightly. “Thanks.” She nodded. “There's antibiotic ointment and band-aids on the shelf for you to use on those abrasions.” With no protest on his part, she watched him disappear and went off to search for the largest shirt she owned, together with some pair of boxer shorts to offer him for the night.

About to hand in her findings, she gave a polite knock on the door and waited until he called her in. He stood at the sink, washing his hands, and looked over his shoulder at her entry. His shirt hung halfway unbuttoned and untucked from the waistband of his pants. She could see the faint, bloodied traces of his fingertips around the small buttonholes. “Do you need anything else?” He declined.

“I'm good. Go on, get under the covers, I won't take long.”

She put his sleeping attire onto the rim of the bathtub and pulled the door shut behind her. Minutes later, the sound of running water from the shower reached her ears. When he made his way over to her bedside fifteen minutes later, Pepper lay on her side, blanket up to her chin, watching him with heavy-lidded eyes. He pulled a face and dropped the neat little pile of his dirty clothes onto a nearby chair.

“Don't ever tell anyone I'm now smelling like fruity grapefruit and lilac from head to toe.” She smiled and yawned a little at the same time. “Your secret's safe with me.” In the dim light of the nightstand lamp, his face became solemn. As they lay facing each other, Bruce's eyes darted all over her features. “Gina, do you... know anything about the vigilante of Gotham?”  
  
Pepper reached out to inspect his palms and was relieved to find them looking less gory than before. “The... Batman?” He gave a little, eager-sounding hum. Before he could elaborate, she then twisted and turned the lights off with a flick of her wrist. “No. Do you?” Her whisper was a soft gust of warmth against his cheek as she snuggled deep into her pillow and closed her tired, burning eyes.

“More than most.”  
Bruce then freed one of his hands to run a finger along her temple.  
“More than anyone ever will.”  
  
Her answer was a sleepy, unintelligible murmur.  
Before Bruce could carry on, Pepper then yawned.  
“... they say he's a murderer.”  
  
Taken aback, his caressing motions stopped and he drew his hand back. “That's... what do you think?” As soon as he mustered up the courage to search for her gaze, he saw her eyelids had drooped shut again. Pepper still gave one final, quiet hum that could have meant anything. Seconds later, she was fast asleep. With a deep sigh, Bruce Wayne turned onto his back and stared at the dark ceiling of her bedroom.

* * *

Pepper woke the next morning to the feel of a strong arm encircling her waist from behind.

Warm puffs of breath tickled in her nape, then Bruce also began to stir, tightening his grip. His fingers brushed against a small strip of bare skin between her shirt and pants and caused her to jolt slightly. Caught in the haze of not being fully awake yet, she arched into the solid body that was spooning her, feeling a telltale hardness between his legs press into the curve of her rear.

He responded by grinding his hips into hers with slow, sensuous motions, inching a knee in between her thighs in the process. The hairs on his legs were soft, his toes warm, and she began to further relax and melt into his touch. No words were spoken as Bruce began to nuzzle into her neck while his hand started to move up further under her shirt to caress her stomach area, grazing against the swell of her breasts.

Both of them could be heard breathing harder; still, neither made a move to speak or to turn around.

Then the doorbell rang an obnoxiously long time, followed by three short blips. It broke the spell of the moment and led to an instant loss of physical contact. With a groan, Pepper peeled herself out of the tangled sheets, grabbed her bathrobe from a nearby chair, and stumbled out into the foyer. Outside stood Tony; carrying a huge bouquet of roses, a pair of tinted glasses on his nose, and a smirk on his lips.

“Second time you're in a bathrobe after 10 am. Better not make it a habit. Morning, Pep.”   
  
He was prepared for the dark, seething glare his jaunty quip produced. He was, however, completely unprepared for the sight of another presence in the back of her suite, dressed in shirt and boxer shorts. Wayne cast them a brief glance as he walked past, rubbing the back of his bed head, and disappeared in the bathroom. Tony smirk turned into a barely contained grimace.

“Huh. That stage of mergers & acquisitions came surprisingly fast. Wow. Who'd've thought.”  
She leaned in her doorway, putting up an arm to block both his entrance and line of view.  
“What can I do for you, Tony?”  
  
With a dramatic motion, he pulled off his designer shades.  
“Why so passive-aggressive, Potts? I came here with good intentions.”  
His cocky tone and posture stirred up all of her previously buried anger anew.  
  
“Must be all those close brushes with death from the past few days. Those can really get to a person.” At that, his face turned sour. “Just for the record - I was about to come and rescue you yesterday! But then Jarvis told me you were safe and...” Tony gave a dismissive wave into the direction Bruce had left. “... with that clown, so I said to myself why even bother, y'know?” Pepper's nostrils flared as her eyes narrowed.  
  
“You are not talking about him like that. Not now, not ever! I've had it with your attitude, Tony, you hear me? I am sick and tired of all the crap you've put me through the past couple of weeks! You know what? I quit. I resign. From everything!” Mouth agape at her furious tirade, Tony let the hand with the expensive flower bouquet sink.  
  
“Oh, come on now, cut the dramatics here. Pepper. Hey!”  
He was quick enough to stop her from slamming the door shut into his face.  
“You have my resignation on your desk by Monday.”  
  
Tony's bafflement soon turned into incredulity.  
“Wha... Like hell! You can't quit!”  
“Watch me!”

Whatever remains of a self-assured smirk were on Tony's face shriveled up as he realized the seriousness of the situation. “No! Nonono. I won't accept it!” His eyes turned frantic and kept on darting over to where the bathroom door remained shut. “Has he put that bullshit into your head? Ha! I bet! You wanna go work for Wayne? Is that it?” Pepper rolled her eyes and shook her head with vigor.   
  
“Not at all!”  
Unmindful of her growing exasperation, Tony kept on gesturing with his free hand.   
“Because... I pay better, okay? Whatever he offered, I'll double the amount!”

“Tony, _I_ am CEO of the company. You don't get to pay me.”  
  
Stark huffed and glimpsed left and right of the corridor. He then licked his lips and raised his chin. “I want to speak to him.” Alarmed, Pepper refastened her hold on the door. “What? No! And for the last time - Bruce has nothing to do with this!” His free hand reached out to grasp her wrist. “Okay then come with me, I need to talk to you in private.” Incensed, Pepper slapped his fingers off.  
  
“Goddammit, no! What the heck is wrong with you?!”  
It was the final straw and prompted Tony Stark to throw down the roses with force.  
“I WAS DYING UNTIL YESTERDAY, OKAY?!”  
  
Stunned, she looked down to where the flowers now pooled at her feet.   
“You were... what? Why... why didn't you tell me!? Tony?! How?”   
Still enraged, Tony paced off towards the elevator, only to come back, jabbing an index finger at her.

“Because you would've said it's my own fault, and you would've been right, and I wouldn't have wanted to hear, and what does it matter, because there's no more Palladium poisoning me now, so forget it. _You_ seem to be _fine_. Hella fine. One thing though, Miss CEO – I'll never allow Wayne Enterprises to swallow up Stark Industries, tell him that. Have a fuckin' lovely weekend!”

As soon as the elevator doors had shut behind him, the bathroom door unlocked. Bruce's hair was wet and combed back, but had not bothered to shave, leaving him with a faint shadow of stubble. Pepper rubbed her forehead with a palm and closed the door. With a weary expression, she turned to face him.

“Did you...?”

“Every word.”

“I'm so sorry, Brix.”

“For what? He's got a right to be angry.”

“Does he? Because I feel like that's actually my prerogative, after all that's been said and done.”

Wayne pinched his lips shut and stepped aside to let her waltz past him into the bathroom, locking the door. When she was done brushing her hair and teeth, he had reclaimed his seat at the kitchen island. She continued to vent as she began to move around the open kitchen and rummaged through cupboards. “Ever since he got that armor, things have gotten worse. I hate that suit. I hate what it's done to him.”

Bruce watched as she went through the motions of making coffee, fresh orange juice, and what looked to be French toast. He tried to assist in setting the breakfast table but mostly stood in her way. Feeling awkward, he, therefore, sat back down on the bar stool at the counter to avoid getting his bare toes stepped on for the fifth time.

“You only see one side of the big picture because you're angry now. He's done a lot of good deeds as Iron Man in the past few months.” The butter dish clattered onto the granite counter. “Why, Brix? Why are you even taking his side when you know just _how_ little he thinks and speaks of you?” The pan sizzled. Bruce tilted his head and focused on her exposed nape after she had put her hair up in a bun.  
  
“I don't care what he thinks. He doesn't know me.”  
Pepper viciously cracked eggs into a bowl and doused them with milk, cinnamon, and vanilla.  
“Tony Stark doesn't know much about _anything_ that doesn't run on batteries or engines.”

She started to beat the concoction with a fork, missing out on the way Bruce's eyebrow quirked at the vehemence she put into her task. “I think that's enough.” Furious blue eyes blazed up at him, to which he put up the most innocent expression and pointed at the bowl. “There's no need for you to centrifuge it.” Anger fizzling out, she bared her teeth at him in mock-amusement but stopped.

After dipping bread into the mixture and coating it from both sides, Pepper placed the first few slices into the pan. “What are we going to do about your wardrobe by the way?” Bruce looked up from where she had put a steaming mug in front of him, confused by the change of topic. “Wardrobe?” She wiped her hands on a towel and left him sitting at the counter to nurse his first cup of coffee.

When she came back she held up the tattered, bloodied remains of his button-down shirt against the light for mutual inspection. “I somehow feel like these won't survive laundry or even dry cleaning anymore.” He pondered her valid point for a few moments and put the mug down. “Can I use your phone real quick?”

Half an hour later, while they were still enjoying breakfast, the doorbell rang again. A delivery boy handed her a discreet black box and an envelope that was unsealed. She passed both items to Bruce. His eyes skimmed over the text before he flipped the card around for her to read.

 _'A town car is waiting outside at 11:30. Best, A. P.'_  
Both looked at the watch on the wall above. Bruce then clicked his tongue and sighed.  
“Looks like my carriage is already waiting.”

Dressed in dark denims, boots, and a long-sleeved polo shirt, he stood in front of her five minutes later. His mouth opened a couple of times, only to snap shut again. Instead, Bruce took her face in between large palms and leaned in to seal her lips with fervor. “Next time, Gina, I promise. No more excuses.” A big exhale, then he was gone, skipping down the flight of stairs until he disappeared from her view.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title courtesy of Florence + The Machine's song (2011). Fitting lyrics are fitting.


	11. Shoulda

It took Pepper weeks to convince Tony she was, in fact, not leaving him. In return, she demanded to get to know everything about his medical condition he had withheld from her all those days. It was a time of revelations and confessions for them both, subsequently leading to Tony getting to know Pepper's and Bruce's history. “Sooo, you two are college buddies. College buddies turned friends with benefits.”  
  
He had to duck away to escape her raised palm. “Shut up, it's not like that.” His fingers drummed a little melody on the desk. “Then what's it like?” Pepper stopped, mid-pace, and looked at something in the distance. “At this point, I... don't really know.” Tony gave an understanding nod. “... fuck buddies.” The slap that hit his jeans-clad backside echoed through the room.

Bruce called her once in a while, usually sounding stressed out or tired. He always asked how she was doing, so they spoke a little bit about the latest project Pepper was involved in; the construction of Stark Tower in New York. "He really went and bought the MetLife Building?" His voice spoke of skepticism. She leaned back in her office chair and crossed her legs, glancing out into the morning sky.

"Yes, so we could leave the foundation untouched and only had to deconstruct the upper portion of the building, and... whatever. It turned out quite good. Actually, I thought you might want to come by and have a look." When he did not reply right away, Pepper felt her cheeks heating up. "I mean, seeing New York is only 1.5 hours from Gotham by plane, and..." She gnawed her bottom lip. "... I miss you."  
  
On the other end, a heavy sigh could be heard.  
"I'll go and clear my schedule. I assume the tower does have a helipad?"  
Stomach fluttering with happiness, Pepper grinned.  
  
"You bet."

* * *

"Nuh-uh, I won't."

"Tony..."

"Seriously, no. Go and give him the Big Apple tour, but don't expect me to cook a fancy welcome dinner or something." Pepper's eyes narrowed at the defiance in his stance. "Bruce may not be in the mood for overcooked mac and cheese anyhow." Stark put up both his hands in the air and shook them, together with his head. "Now I'm even less inclined to show up." Pepper tapped her heeled foot upon the floor.

"Can't you just try and be a little nice? Bruce has done nothing to you."

"Well, he's done nothing _for_ me either, so..."

She headed over where he stood, nursing a pout while fiddling with some sort of metal bracelet. Pepper then reached out to run a hand through the curly strands above his ear; seeing a touch of silver in them. "If you're my friend, you'll at least say hi." Under her caresses, Tony became more pliant. It was a privilege she had earned over the years, seeing he usually hated being touched or handed things.  
  
"You're playing dirty, Potts." His eyes closed and he nuzzled like a cat into her touch. “Mhm.” It was followed by a gentle flick of her finger against his earlobe. “Speaking of which – go take a shower. You smell.”

* * *

“That's so chic. Arriving by chopper I mean.”

Tony eyed the black BELL 430 helicopter with its light-gray Wayne Enterprise logo on the side, rocking back and forth on his heels. He and Pepper stood at the side of the helipad, secured by the canopy, as the aircraft came to a standstill, blades still whipping through the air. Stark cocked his head and shoved his hands into the pockets of his denims, focusing not on the person exiting, but on the machine itself.

Hair only slightly mussed by the airflow, a sunglasses-wearing Bruce Wayne then walked over to them, carrying a small weekender in his hand. He wore a smile and a business casual outfit without a tie. Pepper stepped up to meet him, allowing him to sneak his free arm around her shoulders for a hug. Bruce refrained from any further gestures of affection and instead looked at the other man loitering in the back.

“Mister Stark, pleasure.”  
Said billionaire cocked his head and pursed his lips.  
“Afternoon. That's a nifty little gadget you've got there.”

Tony pointed ahead with his chin. Bruce turned around to look at the helicopter. “How so?” Stark exposed a set of pearly white teeth, even if his smile held a touch of feral. “Noise reduction on a non-military vessel. What's the story behind that?” Wayne adjusted his aviator shades and shifted his bag into his other hand. “Rotor blades made of metal composites with low radar signature and special acoustic design.”  
  
Tony's eyebrows rose, albeit only a trifle, because a Stark never openly admitted to being impressed.

“Neat. How are they faring under torsional modes that are below the usual rigidity?” The Gothamite looked at him as if he had spoken Chinese. Then he shrugged his broad set of shoulders. “Oh, I... I don't know. Actually, Lucius is the brains behind WE. I'm just...” Bruce glimpsed over at Pepper's slightly tense face. “... just the bankroller.” Tony finished for him with more smugness than before.

Much to his surprise, Wayne broke into a smile and tilted his head. “Yeah, I guess that's what it is.” Tony warmed up to his Gotham counterpart by showing off the newly refurbished upper floors. “We've got clean ARC energy powering the whole thing for at least a year. So environmental-friendly, you're gonna cry. Plus, there's an AI installed everywhere to monitor the whole complex." Stark then wiggled a finger at his guest.

"So no dirty stuff around here, Wayne, or else I'll be broadcasting it from the tower tomorrow morning.”   
  
Bruce took his bragging, threatening, and the overall vanity tour with the utmost professionalism. At some point, he still reached out for Pepper's hand and kept it in his as they followed Stark around the leisure area. “And what's up there?” Tony turned around at his question, only to squint at the sight of their joined hands for a split second. “Workshop. Sorry pal, but that one's completely confidential.”  
  
Wayne nodded, all serious. “Of course.” He looked over at the woman next to him and nodded. “Very impressive, like you said.” Stark meandered over to a huge bar at the side and drummed his palms on the massive counter. “So, Wayne, where's your crib situated these days? I remember reading something about a fire?” Bruce watched him prepare a tumbler with ice.

“I'm currently residing in a penthouse complex. It's going to take some more months until the manor is completely reconstructed.” Pepper declined when Tony waved a glass into her direction and looked at her friend from college. “Atop that hotel you've said you bought?” He nodded. “The Gotham Grand.” The sound of Tony slamming the bottle of bourbon back on the counter got them to look at him.  
  
“Anyhow, I gotta leave you two lovebirds alone now, my clique is having a tree house meeting.”

* * *

Later that evening found Pepper and her guest laying on the couch of her own, private quarters at the tower, indulging in what was commonly called a hearty make out session. Bruce had shed his jacket and tie as soon as they had returned from dinner at Nobu 57, just like Pepper had ditched her heels. Her skirt was bunched up to her hips as she sat on his lap, grinding into the growing arousal inside his dress pants.

His hands were buried underneath her silken blouse while she was busy exploring his mouth with her tongue. From where Pepper had started to unbutton his shirt, something made her stop halfway. “Oh, my.” Dazed he glimpsed up. “Huh?” She sat up straighter, flipped her loose hair behind her shoulders, and ran a palm over his pectoral muscles. “Where do all these scars come from?”  
  
In slow motion, Bruce withdrew his hands and followed her line of view. “Uhm...” He shifted slightly to adjust himself, glimpsing from her bare legs up to her face. Pepper frowned. “Don't tell me you still go rock climbing in your free time? With that bad knee of yours?” Her cadence had gone from sexy purr to reproachful worry. Bruce licked his lips, trying to appear nonchalant at the interruption.

“Not really, no.” He escaped her ongoing examination by wrapping an arm around her waist and reversing their positions. At first, Pepper tried to protest, but when he pinned her hands and began to ravish the area on her neck, the words soon turned into moans. 

“Miss Potts, I am sorry to interrupt, but someone from the DOD is on line 4.”

At the disembodied, British voice, Bruce stopped nibbling on her earlobe and looked up. “Is that the AI Stark spoke about?”  Pepper nodded, all remorseful, and peeled herself out from underneath him. “I'm sorry, it might be urgent.” He ran a hand through his hair and sat back in the far corner of the couch, ankle crossed over his knee. “Go ahead.”

Equipped with a headset, she meandered off to the far end of her apartment. The call took about three minutes, and when she came back to the living room, Bruce had already buttoned up his shirt again, looking not the slightest bit debauched. She heaved a big sigh. “That was Washington. I have to fly to DC as of tonight.” For a split second, something like relief flew over the Gothamite's features.

“That's actually fine with me. It means I won't get an earful from Alfred for being AWOL.”

High up on the helipad half an hour later, two helicopters waited side by side, adorning two different company logos. “I really should take some time off of work, too. You've never shown me Gotham City.” Digging through her purse to make sure she had everything, Pepper missed the almost cynical curl of Bruce's lips.  
  
“It's definitely on my to-do list.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Jamie Woon (2011)


	12. Let Her Go

When the Chitauri started to attack the city, Pepper was just halfway on her way back to New York. Tony's call cut through the silence of the SI private jet, sounding breathless and strained. “Don't come anywhere near New York. Pep, please - I need you to be safe! Go head for the mansion till it's over.” Their connection got cut before she was able to get a word in herself, leaving her anxious and worried.

Seeing they were far too short on fuel to make it to Malibu, Pepper had the pilots change the itinerary for Gotham City. She arrived at the Gotham Grand way past 11 pm, only to run in trouble when Bruce's mobile was turned off and reception naturally denied her any access to Mister Wayne's abode. After being grilled in what seemed forever by security, someone had enough guts or heart to ring up the penthouse.

In less than two minutes, Pepper found herself in an elevator taking her up to the 78th floor. Much to her surprise, he opened the door himself, all dressed up in a black shirt on black slim pants. A look of borderline refusal hovered on his face. “Gina, why didn't you give me a call?” Bruce still moved to let her in, accepting to be kissed briefly on his clean-shaven face.

“Your mobile was turned off. Haven't you heard what's going on in New York?” A lack of understanding lay in her voice. He frowned and closed the massive door behind her. “They said something about aliens. I thought it was a joke.” Pepper shook her head at his flippant ways and unbuttoned her coat to drape it over the next best object close to her, which was a square crème-colored couch element.

“Apparently it's not, they're here and they're real.” She glimpsed at a dark flat screen television in the corner and back at his reluctant face. “Any news channel should be onto it. Tony and the Avengers are going up against them.” When she had to take a breath to calm her overturning voice, she took the time to look him up and down. “Are you going out?”

His body language was terse and spoke of discomfort as he slipped something into the pocket of his pants. “Yes. I'm sorry, but it's too late for me to change plans now.” In a flash, Pepper felt like the 18-year-old ugly duckling from Connecticut again. “Oh, but please... nono, _I_ am sorry. Who am I to assume we were exclusive, we've never even discussed this, so...” She reached for her purse again.

“Let me just go get a room at the hotel down here for the night. I won't be bothering you.”

Exasperated, Bruce stopped her by stepping into her way and clasping her shoulders. “Gina, you don't understand. I want to be with you, but there's something you need to know.” Confusion spread out all over her features. His eyes were dark and intense as they fixated her. Bruce Wayne then swallowed and took a deep breath. His fingers dug into the flesh on her upper arms.  
  
"I am the Batman."  
  
Her first instinct was to laugh out loud. At the sound, his brows furrowed. "Brix... what...?" Blue darted in between hazel, and the smile she wore began to falter when he did not join in. "I've meant to tell you earlier. Way earlier." After a few heartbeats, her grin froze. “You are... serious.” He nodded. Pepper's countenance then took on a horror-stricken expression. “But if you... if... those people that were killed... my God, Brix!"  
  
He reached out to take her cold fingers into his before they could cover her mouth. "No! No, I didn't! It was... I never killed anyone." Bruce frowned as her eyes went from utter disbelief to incomprehensible shock. "Gina, you _have_ to believe me!” She managed to free herself and took a few steps back, eyes trained on his coiled up physique. “You are crazy. This is crazy. This is... madness!” Bruce's jaw tightened but he made no move on her.  
  
“No, it's not. It's a way to _end_ madness.”

“You are a wanted man!”

“Not me. Him.”

“That's the same thing!”  
  
At that, his stance became even more defensive. “There's a difference between a symbol and a mere man of flesh and blood.” The color returned to Pepper's cheeks and neck, leaving behind red splotches of agitation. “Oh, yes, right. All of those scars and injuries on you beg to differ, though.” She stormed off to escape towards the huge balcony that invited her with open doors. Bruce dropped his chin to his chest and sighed.

After a little while, he then followed her outside, over to where she stood with her back towards him and her arms protecting her chest. It was almost like back at The Mark in New York, several years ago. Bruce spread his arms. “Gina, can you please look at me.” A shake of red hair. “No, please, I have to... I need time to think.” He put two gentle hands upon each of her shoulders, feeling her flinch at his touch.  
  
“There's nothing to think about – I just wanted you to know, because I... because you are...”  
When she swung around, he had to let go of her. Her eyes were full of distress.  
“Because you needed to share the burden. To relieve your conscience.”  
  
Their eyes darted within each other. His countenance took on a pained note. “I need someone in my life to understand. I can't live a lie with people close to me, it's...” Angry at a for him not too uncommon loss of words, Bruce turned away and started to run his fingers through his hair. After a while, a slender hand appeared at his elbow. “I promise I will never abuse your trust in me.”

A meager smile flashed across his face. “I know that.” Pepper's fingers slid off his arm. “But I am not sure how to deal with the things you told me you do.” His face completely shut down in less than a split second. “Meaning what?” She slung her thin cardigan tighter around her frame. “You say you want us to be together.” He gave a curt nod she missed out upon, keeping her eyes trained on the distance.

“Yes.”  
It was her time to nod.  
“I can only be together with one man, Brix.”

Bruce drew in a harsh sounding breath.  
“Don't make me choose, Gina.”  
His voice was a haunted whisper in the night.

Pepper briefly closed her eyes. When she reopened them, there was sadness. “Don't you understand. You are surrounded by mortality, just like Tony. I am going to be the one who has to pick up the pieces, and I know, especially with what's happening in New York, that I won't be ready. I'll never be ready to see either of you getting hurt, or worse. How do you expect me to live with that fear?”

His mouth worked while his brows furrowed, trying to find the right words to lever out her objection. Eventually, his shoulders sagged and he stared at the floor. An angry, dejected tug lay around his lips. "I guess I... can't.” Bruce stared at something out of her periphery for the longest time, then squared his shoulders. “Maybe it's best if we stop pretending what we're not then.”

At the vocalized steel in his voice, her head whipped into his direction. She grabbed him by the arm and propelled herself into his line of view. “Are you – what are you implying? You think that not being with you, but _knowing_ you are fighting crime at night makes it all the better for me? Thanks a lot for that mighty guilt trip!” Her anger poured straight from her tongue. It prompted him to detach himself from her grip and proximity.

“I'm sorry, Gina. You're right – I should've never told you. Never should've burdened and endangered you.” He walked back inside to fetch her jacket. Pepper stared at him as if he was insane. “This is it? This is... goodbye?” Her voice was starting to hitch. He looked at the coat in his hands as if it had the answers. “For the better.” Virginia Potts, known as Pepper to most, but called Gina by only one man, slowly shook her head.  
  
“Keep on telling yourself that, Brix.” She took the jacket from his hands. “I wish you would've never told me.” Working his jaw he stared at the floor with that same aura of obstinacy which had been surrounding him for the past 14 years. His inexorable ways allowed her to walk out on him and his life for yet another time. They also forbid him to go after her to stop history from repeating itself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Passenger's 2012 song and lyrics


	13. Haunting

The battle of New York established the true birth of the Avengers.  
They were a team.  
They were heroes.

Despite the fear and the worrying, Pepper had seen it coming, even from afar. What she had not seen coming, however, was Tony falling for Steve Rogers. Not in a million years. It started out small, with coffee and workout dates or prolonged talks in the workshop, but soon evolved into more. For the first time in months, Tony Stark was utterly and madly in love.

Having learned his lesson, he was also completely secretive about it.

The fact that he confessed to her at some point, sleep-deprived after a mission, proved that whatever relationship spark had flown between her and him was gone. She knew there was no reason to be sad, seeing it got replaced by an even deeper friendship. In a way, she was quite glad he had found someone who was on the same page, to ground him whenever Tony was on the verge of going off his hinges.

Their relationship deepened over the next few months, and whenever she caught them kissing, Pepper could not help but feel a painful stab in her chest. It was not that she did not want Tony to be happy from the bottom of her heart, far from it, but it seemed to make her commiserate her own misery even more. Even if she managed to downplay it in front of everyone else, Pepper was suffering. Gina was suffering.

Suffering, but still too proud to come crawling back.

Instead, her news feeds now included all e-papers from Gotham that would give her information on any activities of the Batman. True to his stubborn nature, Bruce kept on donning the suit despite being named a felon, and despite the condition of his leg that was still a major liability.

She did a few absurd things, too; like calling Gotham hospitals with her number withheld, to inquire about patients being taken to ER after a night of Batman sightings. It never turned out to be him who got admitted, but her anger at him and his reckless behavior grew by the minute.

While the Batman continued to make first page, Bruce Wayne seemed to fade into the background. That was until rumors about his alliance with Miranda Tate, a new board member of Wayne Enterprises started to make rounds, earning him several headlines of famous gossiping magazines. Dark-haired, pretty and petite, with a subtle French accent and a smoky voice, Miranda Tate soon became the talk of the town.

Reporters would go nuts over pictures of her and Bruce leaving Wayne Tower together or being seen somewhere fancy at lunch after a business meeting. Tate was engaged in philanthropic endeavors for Gotham City, including charity fundraising and the like. She had also heavily invested in Wayne Enterprises clean energy fusion reactor project. It was the project Bruce had wanted to bring to life, together with Stark Industries.

Pepper had always prided herself on knowing the color green was an ugly one, but yet she wore it.

When the very Miss Tate was about to come to New York for some other fundraiser, Pepper's gut feeling told her it was an opportunity not to miss out upon. She made use of her own, wide network to confirm her suspicions, and had an invitation of the organizing committee on her desk a week later. When she voiced her plans to her closest confidant and friend, she was met with sincere enthusiasm.

“Sure, yes. I'll come along. Dust off the spiffy Valentino, get the good old rumors about me and you rolling again...” Tony's hand playfully sneaked around her shoulders as he grinned a crooked grin. “Oh, I... actually, I had planned on taking Steve along...” Pepper's apologetic gaze flew over to the tall blonde. His blue eyes looked startled from where he sat quietly on the couch. “... if he has time this Friday evening and doesn't mind?”

Tony's face fell visibly, to which she put a hand on his arm. Upon the befuddled looks from both men, Pepper tilted her head and stood up from her office leather chair. “It is a charity event for the Smithsonian Institution, so I figured... - with Steve's background, and the exhibit they are planning for him in Washington next year, it might set the right tone for the night.”

Her explanation seemed to mollify the billionaire a little and started to hum and nod along.

“And Wayne gets to see you next to hot Captain America. Ho-hum. That might actually do the trick.” Pepper sighed. “It's not like that.” Tony tsked. “It's _totally_ like that – and boy, are you gonna win this pissing contest by far. Steve will don the full regalia for you -babe, yes, don't gawk at me like that- you're smoking in your Army dress uniform, and people will go nuts over the two of you.”

As he rambled on, Tony meandered over to his lover. By now, Steve looked downright miserable. “C'mon now baby blues, I know of guys who'd sell an arm and leg to go out with that woman.” He pointed his thumb at Pepper with a wink and earned himself a roll of her eyes. Steve squirmed. “Of course! It's just that I – I mean, I'm sure there is going to be dancing involved, and well...” He looked like a lost puppy. “... that is not my forte.”

Tony slipped one hip onto the backrest before he put his palms on Steve's shoulders from behind, giving an encouraging squeeze and rub combo. “Those boring shindigs only involve slow dancing, which is basically nothing else but swaying on the spot, left and right. I'll show you the basics tonight, no prob.” Steve did not look convinced, as did Pepper, who was quick to throw in her own two cents.

“We don't have to dance. Really. We don't.”

The panic-stricken look on Steve's even features slightly lessened. Tony then put an index finger to his lips. “But hey... hold up, hold up there – dancing or no dancing... that whole thing kinda makes you a beard then, Pep doesn't it?” She put her arms akimbo with a rather indignant expression. “This is not about starting any relationship rumors whatsoever, Tony.”

He did not seem to mind his own offense and stroked down his goatee like an evil scientist. “Yes, but we don't want Wayne to know that now do we. So, I only have two mini rules: Hands above the waist, and no tongue.” He had trouble suppressing the snigger that wanted to escape his lips. It was Steve himself who eventually rose from his place on the couch to step closer to where she stood next to her desk.

“Ignore him. I'd... I'd be delighted to come along, Pepper.”  
She threw him a thankful smile.  
“Thank you, Steve.”

* * *

On Friday evening around 8, limousines held in front of The Waldorf Astoria by the minute.

“Are you ready?”  
Blue eyes met blue, then he nodded.  
“Let's do this.”

Steve had held word and wore his highly-decorated uniform. To compliment him, she had chosen a delicate, semi-sheen khaki-colored gown made from silk and tulle. It had cost more than she normally spent on dresses, but she ignored the nagging voice in her head for the true reasons behind her impulse buy. In no time, they attracted the horde of reporters who loitered outside the venue, and shutters went off like crazy.

Steve had learned how to hold himself up within the public eye by now, thanks to Tony's many years of living in the spotlight and milking it for the cameras. On his best commandeering Captain America persona, he spoke about the importance of museums and their perseverance for keeping history alive and present to younger generations to journalists and organizers of the event alike.

Next to him, a radiant-looking Pepper reinforced his statements by affirming the financial support of Stark Industries. The cameras clicked a dozen more times before Steve put a firm, but friendly end to all interviews and steered the woman on his arm into the grand ballroom on the third floor.

All of his 1940s etiquette on display, he went out of his way to treat her like a lady; from holding the door open, to taking her coat, to offering her his arm whenever a set of stairs lay on their way. Pepper found it sweet and endearing, and it made the whole big-scale event far more bearable. It did, however, not take long until two familiar faces from Gotham City appeared within the crowd.

Pepper's facial expression never wavered, but her fingers twitched within the crook of Steve's arm, getting his attention. His super-enhanced senses had also spotted Miranda Tate and Bruce Wayne from far away. “Do you want me to...?” Steve's whisper was accompanied by starting to let go of her arm. Pepper stopped his motions. “Stay. Please.” He nodded and was quick to adopt a crisp, tall stance.

As soon as he had looked their way and recognized them, Wayne's standoffish aura began to radiate off of him in almost palpable waves. It was his female companion who all but dragged him over to come face to face with Pepper and Steve. “Miss Potts, we finally meet. I have heard so much about you, it is a pleasure.”

Miranda Tate was all smiles and Pepper forced herself to return the meaningless facade. “Miss Tate, the pleasure is all mine. Welcome to New York.” Her large blue-green eyes sparkled with something Pepper could not quite place, but then Miranda turned to brush her hand against Bruce's upper arm. “I believe you know my company, just like I do know yours.” Her coy smirk wandered all over Steve's athletic figure.

“The very Captain America.”

In all military rigor, Steve indicated a tilt of the head, otherwise remaining detached. “Ma'am.” When Pepper forced herself to meet Bruce's gaze, his eyes were a dark swirl of unreadable emotions. She blinked. "Good evening, Bruce.” Saying his real name felt and sounded strange as it left her mouth. He forced an equally warped smile on his face. “Good evening.” His eyes quickly flew to the man on her side.

“Captain Rogers.”

Their handshake was brief and unemotional. Miranda Tate then spoke up. “I have actually never been to the Astoria before. It is a beautiful location. And very fitting for the cause of the event, don't you agree, Bruce?” Her thick accent, coupled with the way she pronounced his name felt like nails on a chalkboard to Pepper. Wayne's lips stretched into a thin and meaningless grin. “Wait till you see the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

At that, Miranda Tate brushed her free hand up against his chest. “Oh, yes, the tickets to the Met Ball.” She then smiled at Pepper, all saccharine. “Those are only by admission of Anna Wintour herself. I am thinking about donating mine because the Red Cross can use those $ 25,000 more than my closet can use a new dress.” Pepper nodded along in fake empathy and looked to her left. “Pardon me, but I am starting to get a little thirsty.”

Steve immediately took the hint and offered her his arm again. Miranda also steered Bruce into another corner filled with independent gentlemen and wealthy looking wives. After getting them each a glass of sparkling Dom Perignon, Steve and she found a secluded little spot on the side to watch on. Rogers' eyes scanned the room for a while before he looked at his company. “Does he practice any martial arts?”  
  
Pepper avoided eye contact by nipping at her champagne once more.  
“Bruce? No, not that I know of... why?”  
Steve glimpsed down at his right hand and made a flexing move.  
  
“Just a thought.”

* * *

For a little while, they were able to observe the spectacle undisturbed. Pepper tried not to focus too much on the way Bruce stayed close to Tate's side, one hand hovering in the small of her back whenever they were chatting up some invitees. At some point, Wayne steered his beautiful company on the dance floor, and she hated the look of enthusiasm that now dominated his features; fake or not.

He even managed to mask his limp during the first round of waltz he swayed Miranda into.

“Maybe we should try to dance.”

Surprised Pepper looked at Steve, breaking her reverie. He was staring at the parquet with an intensity as if he was looking at a battlefield. “Oh, but we really don't have to.” His jaw moved. “Tony has shown me some moves. And Jarvis, too, so it can't be that wrong.” A slight blush crept up the collar of his uniform. Pepper's gaze softened. “Okay, I'd love to.” Putting their drinks aside, she slipped her fingers into his hand.

Steve's skin was dry but very warm to the touch. “I have to get over this fear at some point, might as well start tonight.” To some soft jazzy tunes by a live band, they began to sway on the spot, shuffling a little to find their rhythm. Steve continued to glimpse at his footwork while talking to himself, and she eventually squeezed his hand. “Easy there. Just keep your eyes on me. Consider it practice.” A nod.

“Oh yes, definitely. I mean, once we... Tony can dance quite well, and I don't want to... lack.” Pepper leaned in even closer, a mischievous smile on her face, and bit her bottom lip. “Am I mistaken or did I just hear the faintest chime of future wedding bells, Captain Rogers?” Now his cheeks flushed beet red and his lashes fluttered with embarrassment.

“ I... no. No, no. It's far too early for any of... please don't say anything, he'll... - ah, he'd never let me live that one down.” Pepper interrupted his stammering by removing her hand from his shoulder. “Don't worry, I'd never.” She brushed her knuckles against his heated cheek. “All I'm saying is that I approve. Wholeheartedly. Whenever you decide to.” His agitation gave way to a lopsided smirk. “Thank you.”

The band then started to play a romantic and wistful number from the 1940s, and Steve's whole face lit up. “That's Frank Sinatra and the Tommy Dorsey Band. I haven't heard this song in... well, ages.” He drew her a little closer and Pepper let him, ignoring the subconscious feeling of being watched. "Too much?” Caught in the magic of the moment, she leaned her forehead against his cheek and closed her eyes.

“No, it's fine.”

At some point, he lowered his head to look at her, and unwillingly bumped his nose into her ear. It prompted her to giggle, and him to smirk and give a sigh upwards. “Forgive me, I'm hopeless.” Steve then glanced around the ballroom. “And he is quite observant.” She straightened up to her full height. “I think obstinate is the word you're looking for.” Rogers tilted head. “You two should probably have a talk sooner or later.”  
  
She sighed from the bottom of her heart.  
“I don't think that's a good idea.”  
Her gaze wandered over to where she had last seen Bruce in a faraway corner, but he was gone.

* * *

Back at Stark Tower, Steve bid her goodnight and went to look for his boyfriend. Pepper switched off the lights in her quarters a little before midnight, falling asleep with surprising ease. When her phone rang in the very early morning hours, however, she suspected Tony to be the culprit at first. As it turned out, she was mistaken.

“Congratulations.”  
Even that one single word sounded acerbic. She rolled onto her back.  
“For what, if I may ask?”

“For tonight's entertainment. Very amusing and heartwarming.”

Bruce sounded anything but himself, and Pepper realized why. He was drunk. Not enough to slur his words, but drunk enough for the alcohol to loosen up his tongue. “And you know what? I can even see it work. The living symbol of freedom and liberty, and the ice princess CEO. Such a lovely couple.” Pepper saw right through his sham and scooted up against the headboard. “Has Miranda already left for tonight, or why do you call me?”  
  
A deep, nasal exhale from the other end. “Fuckin' leave her out of this.” Her own ire started to rise. “Classy, Mister Wayne. Real classy.” At that, he laughed into her ear with intoxicated venom. “Yeah, aren't I? From the way you've thrown yourself at me in France, you would know a thing or two about classy.” He was in for the kill; fully intent on making her hurt. “I am going to hang up now, Brix. I think this is leading us nowhere.”

A derisive snort. “Yeah, run away from the ugly stuff, like always.” She felt her heartbeat increase at the unrelenting way he hurled accusations at her. “Takes one to know one.” Bruce all but snarled into the receiver. “I've played this damn game with you often enough over the years.” Pepper frowned into the dark. “What game?” “This forgive and forget bullshit. Which you started.” She returned the incredulous sounding laugh.  
  
“Oh but since you are so good at playing games, it should come naturally to you.”  
A crash erupted in his background; probably related to furniture. Pepper shook her head to herself.  
“You should get your head straight, Bruce, mark my words.”

“I'm not the only one, you hear?!”

“You are an idiot for thinking you can take on all of the world as only one man!”

“... did you just call me an idiot?”

“Damn straight I did. Somebody has to!”

The line clicked as he hung up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by Halsey's 2015 song
> 
> The song Pepper and Steve dance to is called "I Think Of You" and should sound like this:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ON4eIAM356Q&list=PLMW_5xDgSx7aI7cCzOMFzJMqdoZSu6vuK&index=1


	14. Running in the Night

She should be used to him falling off the face of the world without preamble by now. Should be used to him taking his sweet time, until he would be able to have a proper conversation again. That time, however, something felt wrong. Days turned to weeks; to months. Wayne Enterprises floundered and stumbled, and there was nothing Pepper could do, except for buying stock with the help of various SI subsidiaries.

Bruce Wayne remained lost to the world, and at some point, it even came to Tony Stark's attention.

“One word and we'll put our feelers out, Pep. Steve and I can easily...” Sitting at her large desk at what was meanwhile known the Avengers' Tower, Pepper massaged her aching temples with tender fingers and looked out into the rainy skyline. “No, I don't want that. He wouldn't want that. If Bruce doesn't want to be found than that's his own right and choice.”

Nevertheless, she was at a certain breaking point where she would have done anything just for a sign of life from him, even if it meant having to deal with an overabundance of his anger. Right there and then, Pepper did not sound convincing even to herself, and Tony pulled a face that said the same. “There's always that other option. That... unpleasant one.” The glance he threw her from underneath long black lashes was grim.  
  
She leaned back in her seat and expelled a harsh breath. “There would have been ransom demands... anything...” Tony's eyes got that particular haunted expression Pepper had secretly named the Afghanistan look. “Not always.” A gloomy silence fell between them as he pushed his palms flat into the back pockets of his jeans. In her mind, an even more horrifying scenario started to play out; one that involved a certain dark vigilante.

Still, Pepper kept her thoughts to herself, having sworn secrecy to Bruce no six months ago. "This is nothing that needs to be treated like a category five hurricane. Thanks for your offer, Tony.” He stopped to lean against the door frame with one shoulder. His goatee twisted with grim determination. “C'mon, Pep, you know I can see how much that guy means to you.”

Her attention flew to her phone that started to blink an incoming call. Torn between both, she sighed. "Keep your eyes and ears open. That's all I ask." Something like accomplishment lay in Stark's expressive brown eyes. "Will that be all, Miss Potts?" The way he said it made her lose the deathly grip she had on her pen. "That will be all, Mister Stark."

Her gaze spoke of gratitude, to which he blew her a kiss and left as she hurried to pick up the receiver.

* * *

At night, Pepper began to dream of college. Dreamed of Bruce and her driving through the night in her old Honda, cruising the streets of New Jersey. Her dreams often turned into nightmares, and she had to witness her younger self missing a red light, causing another car to slam into the Honda's passenger side with a sickening crunch. It was the one Bruce occupied.

Her own whimpers usually woke her as she jolted up into awareness, sweated and shaken until she saw the red digits of her alarm clock and remembered where she was. Some dreams were less horrifying, but the result was always the same. He slipped from her grip, either taken by force or simply by turning his back on her and walking away without looking back.  
  
Autumn came, and with the temperatures dropping and the leaves falling, Pepper's hopes did the same. Until one late Friday afternoon found her clearing her desk at Stark Tower, about to head for her apartment downtown, when her intercom blinked an incoming call. “Tony?” A brief fizzle of static, then a close up of his face inside one of his HUDs greeted her. “Sweetheart, you busy?”  
  
Coat and purse over one arm, she sunk down into her chair again, dropping the items aside on the desk. “Please don't tell me you've blown anything up. Legal and I are still mopping up the remains of the Chitauri disaster.” Tony had the audacity to roll his big brown eyes for her to see, even if a hint of discomfort lay in them upon her mentioning the word Chitauri.  
  
“Why no, actually it's nothing lawsuit-worthy. I guess. Or, maybe it is, I don't know, it's why I want you to be present to decide.” His beating around the bush got her to groan and reach for her handbag. “Now I am curious as to what you think could keep me from spending a cozy Friday evening.” Tony's lips curled.

"There's a foreigner without a valid visa on board of one of the container ships at Newark." Pepper's head shot up from where she had rummaged through her purse. He was still smirking inside his suit. "And I think he might be in dire need of some grub and a place to crash for the night."

By the time they brought him into Stark Tower, shielded from any curious eyes, Pepper had canceled all of her appointments for the upcoming week. Upon seeing him the very first time, braced against Iron Man's massive armor for support, she had to cover her mouth to suppress a sob. If she was looking like she had just seen a ghost, then Bruce Wayne's appearance entirely fit the bill.  
  
Most of his face was hidden behind too long and scraggly hair, combined with a full blown ginger beard. He was dressed in rags that hung off of his body, and what once had been shoes now only was a threadbare excuse for fabric, showing off dirty feet. Tony glimpsed from Wayne to Pepper and back. "Guess you should probably take a shower first, fella, eh?" When Bruce did not react to his quip, Iron Man nudged him.

From where he had stared at the woman in front, the Gothamite flinched and looked up at the humanoid who was a good five inches taller than him. Faceplate up, Stark mouthed the word shower again, and that time, Wayne nodded. They slowly hobbled off into the direction of the tower's private sickbay, followed by Pepper who had managed to keep her composure long enough until Bruce was out of her sight.

Once he was in the hands of capable, medical professionals she allowed herself to break down in Tony's arms. Months of anger, hopelessness, and uncertainty finally gave way to a much-needed catharsis. “I should've done something, I should've been there, I...” Iron Man's gauntlets were hard and cold on her back as Stark tried to offer his support. “I don't think there was anything for you to do. Around _here_ you can work your magic.”  
  
After Bruce had undergone a thorough medical exam, he received proper treatment for his condition. Pepper remained close by the whole time. She kept tabs on his status via Jarvis, and subsequently learned about all the grueling details of Bruce's long overseas trip back to the States.

From where he had boarded an oil tanker at an Indian harbor, the deport had taken him 22 days. Wayne had spent most of them locked away within a hatch sans daylight at the underbelly, suffering from malnutrition and a temporary hearing loss due to being exposed to the constant thrum and whistle of the ship's heavy engine.

She took a seat by his side as he slept off the muscle relaxant medication the doctors had given him, to ease the pain he was still experiencing from what she had learned was a severe back injury. Now, showered and with a halfway trimmed beard, she was able to get a first, real look at him. He had lost weight over the past few months, thinning out his face and showing lines around his mouth that had not been there before.

Careful with a nearby IV bag, Pepper slipped her fingers underneath his palm that was closest to her and lightly caressed the back of it with her thumb in a soothing, regular rhythm. “Oh, Brix, what have you done...” Not expecting an answer, Pepper turned sad eyes over to the windows and stared at the gray skies.  
  
“.. ina.”

Startled she whipped her head around. It was more of an exhale, but his mouth formed a faint smile, stretching the dry skin on his cheeks. “Hey.” Their eyes met; his still drowsy from medication and hers brimming with emotion. Bruce then swallowed and ran the tip of his tongue over a pair of chapped lips. “... missed you.” To go with his quiet admission, his fingers curled around hers.

She reached out with her free hand to brush some stray bangs off his forehead. “It always takes being on the verge of disaster for us to realize that. Really, this needs to stop.” Her tone was teasing even if her touch was nothing but gentle. “Mhm.” His eyes drooped shut once again, but his grip was still firm. “'m sorry.” Pepper quickly brushed the back of an index finger under her eyes to avoid him seeing her tears.  
  
“Okay... okay. It's... it's gonna be okay. Get some more sleep now, I'll be here when you wake up.”  
Eyes closed, he gave a slow nod and swallowed, though not without difficulty.  
Even after his head had lolled to the side, his hand remained interwoven with hers.

* * *

After an initial 24 hours supervision at the tower's private medical quarters, Bruce eventually was released.  
  
Another twelve hours later, he almost looked like his old self, sitting on Pepper's couch, except for the slightly longer hair and the uncommon casual outfit of faded denims, sneakers, and a black woolen sweater. He was far too quiet and reserved, however; obediently drinking hot tea and eating the porridge she had bestowed upon him; intent on nursing him back to full health and weight.

Upon Bruce's wish, they slept in different beds, with him taking up her guest room and its separate bathing facilities. “Do you want anything else? Coffee maybe? Or scrambled eggs? The breakfast around here is really great.” He looked up from his bowl and attempted a lighthearted smile. “No thanks, I'm good.”

Pepper's heels clicked on the wooden floors as she walked back and forth between her dressing room and the living room area, wearing slim black pants and a patterned blouse with long sleeves. She put a small elastic band in between her lips as her hands were busy putting her hair up in a sleek ponytail. The intercom on the wall then began to flash blue, and she paused to press its button and greet Jarvis.  
  
“Good morning, Miss Potts. It is currently 9:20 am. The weather in New York is 48 degrees with a 7 % chance of rain and approximately 6 hours of sunshine. You have no appointments scheduled for today. However, Mister Stark is requesting a meeting with you at his office at 9:30.” One final tug at the hair tie, then Pepper thanked the AI and let her hands sink. She looked at her guest.

“I guess I won't be long. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask Jarvis.”

With a final glimpse at his propped up figure on the couch, she headed for the door and the private elevator. Up on the 77th floor, Tony awaited her, swiveling slightly from left to right in his office chair, ankles crossed on the desk. He was dressed in a sharp looking business suit, together with a distinctive pair of designer sneakers. Upon her entry, he slipped them off the table and moved into a proper sitting position.

“How's things at the big teary-eyed reunion front?”  
His tone was flippant, but his eyes held honest concern.  
“Not as teary-eyed as you picture it to be, probably.”

Instead of taking a seat, Pepper walked over to fetch both of them a cup of coffee. Tony got up to take it from her, and together they moved to stand side by side at the panorama glass front. As they stood, overlooking the city and sipping from their beverages, he then gently bumped into her shoulder. “After teary-eyed, there's always hot and steamy.” She threw him a pointed look at which Tony grinned and clicked his tongue.  
  
“Just saying.”  
  
Consummate professional that she was, Pepper kept a straight face and took another sip. “What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?” Tony cleared his throat, all playfulness giving way to a for him more serious expression. “Fury wants to know when Wayne's ready to talk. I told him off, but he'll keep on knocking.” Her heart started to hammer against her ribcage and she switched the cup from one hand to the other.

“Why would SHIELD want to interrogate Bruce?” Tony shrugged and emptied his coffee in one gulp. “They think he knows something useful. He's been the second one to ever escape that... pit thing.” He walked back over to put the mug on his desk and turned around to face her, leaning his hip against the table. “You know what? After the resurrection of Phil Coulson, nothing's gonna surprise me anymore.”

For a while, Pepper said nothing and just stared into the little brown puddle at the bottom of her cup. She all but jumped when Tony reappeared by her side. A faint whiff of his aftershave wafted over to her when the Californian billionaire then took her by the shoulders and pressed a kiss upon her forehead.  
  
“Break it gently to him, 'kay?”

* * *

Later that afternoon, she took Bruce in her Audi S7 for a drive, to avoid having eavesdroppers on their backs. The day had turned out to become a beautiful and sunny late-autumn day in November, so they were headed for a place far out at the trails of Hudson Valley's Black Creek Preserve. The radio droned softly in the background as neither of them spoke more than a few words during the whole drive.

Bruce had been tense and withdrawn from the moment she told him there was something they needed to talk about in private. He, therefore, kept his gaze mostly out of the window to his right, eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. The sun stood low, so Pepper slipped on her own shades as well as she steered the Audi off-road at the next exit, hearing the gravel crunch under the wheels.

After parking at a secluded little lot, Pepper inspected a nearby trail map while he hovered around in the back with a rather sullen expression. “Let's try the blue trail, it leads to the shore of Hudson River.” With neither approval nor refusal, Bruce followed her past a giant white oak tree into the preserve. Their silence stretched out over the first few miles until they had to pass a suspension bridge.

Pepper stopped and hesitated, glimpsed from the river flowing below and back to the wooden planks in front. “Take my hand.” His voice was gruff and there was a frown in between his brows. Nevertheless, he held out his palm, and she took it without thinking. With Bruce leading the way, they crossed the bridge undeterred. As soon as they had solid forest soil under their boots again he was quick to release her fingers.

“I haven't seen Rogers around.”

His voice was baiting, but both he and Pepper kept their faces even. “Steve has his quarters on another floor. He's usually up early and goes for a run through Central Park or a boxing round in the gym. And afterward, there's always Avengers' business of some kind.” Bruce said nothing and increased his walk and his steps into brisk, long strides instead.

Pepper let him escape, not bothering to try and catch up. She could see his shoulders were a trifle more hunched than before. Eventually, he stopped, forest ground crunching under his soles, and turned around to look at her. “So you two are close then.” Pepper also haltered her steps and pushed her glasses upon her head. “You could say we've grown closer over the past months. There is one thing I had to promise him.”

Wayne licked his lips, said nothing and reached up to take the sunglasses off his nose with calm and controlled motions. “So that's why you brought us out here. To avoid any unpleasant situations.” He pocketed the shades within the inside pouch of his jacket and pursed his lips. “That's very considerate of you, Gina.” Shaking her head at the asperity of his tone, Pepper then began to walk towards him and his glum appearance.

“For all of your magnificence, you can be the most obtuse person I know.” His lips almost disappeared from the way he pressed them together as if to forbid himself to speak up. One more look at his crossed arms that formed a closed defensive shield, then she held his gaze. “I promised him to be a bridesmaid, once he and Tony are going to tie the knot in the near future.”

She purposely let the aftermath of the sentence linger in the air between them, until his mouth twisted in good-natured annoyance.

“Okay, I guess I deserved that.”  
Pepper's left eyebrow arched upwards, as did the corner of her mouth.  
“Was that why you wanted to sleep in the guest room last night?”

His smirk became crooked as he lowered his arms to hang down at his sides. “Partly, yes.” She stepped up to him and carefully wormed her arms around his still tender midriff. “Why else?” Bruce shrugged with a feigned, carefree expression and reached up with a hand to trace the shell of her ear. “I'm a restless sleeper these days and didn't want to disturb you.”

He did not have to say the word nightmare, but Pepper was able to tell by the haunted look in his eyes. She released his waist and instead held out a hand for him to take. “Feel up to walk some more?” Bruce took it with a nod. Hands intertwined, they slowly resumed their leisure stroll, heading for an overlook and small inlet on the Hudson River. Up there, Pepper dared to speak her mind.

“They are planning on asking you questions. About your escape, about... anything.” Bruce watched the wind play with her loose bangs. “I figured they would.” She met his gaze, dead serious. “I haven't told them what 'anything' encompasses.” His one-armed embrace tightened for a second. “I know. They would've reacted differently if you had.” Thinking back to her earlier conversation with Tony, Pepper suppressed a shiver.

“What will you do now?” Bruce's jaw muscles moved under his skin. “I'll be gone as of today.” She tsked out loud in exasperation. “That will cause even greater suspicion.” He poked the tip of his boot against pebbles and stones, watching them scatter away. “Even if - I can't stay any longer. Gotham needs me.” Pepper gave an incredulous sounding little snort.

“I can't believe you're still considering to go back after all you told me has happened.” He sighed. “I... just have to.” When he started to peel out of their embrace, it was not without a hint of regret. Her hand clawed into the front of his jacket. “You're itching to die for her, sacrifice yourself for her, but you can’t even consider trying to live for me?” Taken by surprise, he stared at her face that was twisted with angry despair.

“ _I_ need you, too, damn it, Brix, why can't you understand that? I... I love you!” Pepper stopped and released him, looking nothing frightened upon her sudden, blurted-out confession. After a while, a thin-lipped smile appeared on his matured, clean-shaven features. “It's why I need to take care of this. Once and for all.” He moved in close to take her face in between his palms and kissed her soundly.

As the sun began to set on the horizon, she drove him to the nearby Stewart International Airport.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this song and its lyrics by FM-84 (feat. Ollie Wride):  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TvZskcqdYcE


	15. I Came For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Text in italics taken from the script of The Dark Knight Rises

Looking back, Pepper wished she would not have given in to Bruce's persuasion so easily. It was not the black-clad SHIELD agents waiting for her when she got back to the tower, or Tony's held up repulsor palm when they made a move to take her in for an interrogation about Wayne's whereabouts. It was knowing she let him get back into a doomed city under siege to fight an army of brutal terrorists all by himself.

“He's a nutjob. They're going to take his wealthy ass hostage and completely ruin his company.”  
  
After getting out of the suit, Tony sat across from her in his workshop and rubbed his palms. “Even if it gives me life that he simply offed and left Fury hanging high and dry here, your Brucie's a fool, Pep.” Staring down at her neatly manicured nails, she said nothing. It prompted him to clear his throat. “And there's no way I'm gonna convince the Avengers to head out for Gotham City after his stunt.”

“Tony...”  
Stark gave a negating tilt of the head and stood up with a finalized clap and rub of his hands.  
“Steve said no, and I have to agree. Wayne didn't want to cooperate with us, so we're out.”

Pepper Potts stopped looking out into the skyline and nodded. “Of course; I understand. Thank you for all you've done.” He squinted at her calm facade with suspicion. “You're not about to do anything rash there, are you? There's that certain look of determination on your face, Pep, the one I know only too well. Pardon me, but I don't like it in this particular moment, and if...” Blue eyes shone with practiced composure.

“Don't worry about me.”

* * *

“I have provided the necessary information you requested on Miss Tate, Miss Potts.”

High up in the air, aboard the Gulfstream G650, Pepper pushed her reading glasses up with her index finger. “And?” Jarvis drew up some graphics and loaded them onto the StarkPad in her hand. “The records show an incomplete profile. There are a sketchy birth certificate and a completely fake curriculum vitae.” All pensive, Pepper let her eyes skim over the other display to her left and the route they were flying.

“So if she's not Miranda Tate, then who is she?”

“Her name is Talia al Ghul. She is the daughter of Ra's al Ghul, the former leader of the League of Shadows. He is said to have died in Gotham a few years ago, after the so-called riot in the Narrows.” Pepper inhaled through her nose. “She's going to take revenge. On the city, its citizens, and its protector.” Jarvis was quick to process that bit of information. “If Mister Stark were to know...” She interrupted the AI's train of logic.  
  
“Mister Stark does not need to know where I am going, Jarvis. Please initiate the 04 protocol.”

As Jarvis went into silent stand-by, Pepper fastened her seat belt as soon as the Gulfstream jet began to descend towards a snow-covered airfield in the middle of nowhere. The whole tarmac was empty, and she cinched her winter coat tighter around her frame and flopped the hood up against a drizzle of snow. A couple of abandoned cars stood under a canopy, and she tried their doors without success.

With the help of the trusted AI, Pepper eventually was able to infiltrate the computer systems of a Chevy Impala in less than five minutes. Her breath was visible in the cold air inside the cabin. She rubbed cold fingers and turned the keys to which the Impala sprang to life after the third try. Letting the heater defrost the windshield from the inside, she then headed down the route Jarvis drew up for her on her mobile.

After twenty minutes spent doing 25 mph on slippery, empty roads a Victorian estate loomed up in the snowy distance. Stepping from one foot to the other against the blistering cold, Pepper kept a finger on the doorbell. It took some time but led to motion behind the doors. A squeak of a spyhole, then two apprehensive blue eyes appeared. “And who might you be, Miss?”

“My name is G... Pepper Potts. I am looking for Bruce Wayne. I am a friend of his. From New York.”

Some kind of recognition flickered across his weathered face, and he opened the door a crack to beckon her inside. “Do come in, it is not safe to be outside.” As soon as she stood in the foyer, he bolted the massive entrance doors shut. “My name is Alfred Pennyworth. It is a pleasure to meet you in person.” Pepper's eyes lit up. “You are his butler! Brix... I mean, Bruce, has told me about you.”

Alfred smiled, though not without something close to fatherly concern. “That is true, Miss Potts, likewise. I just wonder why Master Wayne let you come to Gotham in these times.” She shook off the snow from her collar. “Oh, no no. No, he didn't. He doesn't know I'm here. But I...” She gave an embarrassed laugh at her not-quite elaborate plan and ran a hand through her hair after taking down the hood.

“... I either wanted to talk some sense into him, or knock him out with a sedative and fly him out of here before everything is going to get worse.” Her sarcastic smirk was met with a concerned tilt of the head. “I am afraid it is too late for those plans, Ma'am. Master Wayne is not on the premises anymore.” Pepper's shoulders slumped, dejected. When she looked at the butler again, there was fright in her eyes.

“Where is he? Is he...fighting them?” Pennyworth cocked his head with a peculiar expression. “Fighting, Ma'am?” With a sheepish little laugh, Pepper brushed some hair behind her ears. “He's... I mean... uhm... he told me he is... he's the...” The butler cocked his head. “The Batman, Miss?” “Y-...yes.” Alfred moved to take off her coat and motioned for her to go into the room across the foyer.  
  
“At first we should get you warmed up. Plus, it does talk easier over a cup of strong, black tea.”

With wood crackling in the fireplace, Pepper sat cross-legged on a comfortable couch and listened to Alfred's tales about Bruce's return to Gotham after his journey to Asia, his transformation into the masked vigilante of the city, and the rise and fall of the Batman after the Harvey Dent incident.

She listened to everything he said with rapt attention, pausing only to ask the occasional question here and there; regarding Rachel Dawes or Commissioner Gordon. When it was Pepper's turn to share her new-found information about Miranda Tate, Alfred's countenance darkened. “She has led him right into Bane's trap. And I was heedless enough to introduce her to him.”  
  
He looked miserable and crestfallen, and Pepper put her mug down to cup it in between both palms. “Nobody could know such things would happen.” Another distinctive British voice broke the silence. It came from her phone. “Miss Potts? There are people approaching the estate. They appear to be armed.” At the sight of a bunch of mercenaries making its way up the gates of Wayne Manor, Pepper stepped back from the windows.

Watching Alfred grab an old Remington rifle from a vintage weapons' closet, she walked over and reached out for a rifle as well. Upon his look, Pepper squared her shoulders. “If Scarlett O'Hara was able to defend Twelve Oaks against those carpetbaggers, then so can we.” A thunderous roar outside made her and Alfred peek out of the window again. A huge, daring vehicle was rolling up the gravel path and into their direction.

Pepper's eyes widened in shock. “What... what is that thing?” Pennyworth checked the safety mechanism of the rifle in his hand. “A Tumbler, Miss Potts. With enough firepower to blow Twelve Oaks into pieces - before Rhett Butler gets here. Follow me.” She swallowed and did as she was told. In mid-step, she fumbled for her mobile. “Jarvis? Maybe now is a good time to inform Mister Stark after all...”

* * *

_'The bomb is armed, the bomb is mobile, the identity of the trigger man is a mystery. One of you holds the detonator - we come not as conquerors, but as liberators to return control of this city to the people. At the first sign of interference from the outside world or of people attempting to flee, this anonymous Gothamite, this unsung hero, will trigger the bomb.'_

From where they sat on the couch, Tony's legs on Steve's lap as the latter massaged his feet, the frown in between Tony's brows grew. “Don't tell me this sits right with you either, snookums.” Steve stopped his tender ministrations and pursed his lips, eyes staying locked on the TV screen. “You know it doesn't. But I'd rather not be responsible for the genocide of half of Gotham just because we're going in guns ablaze.”

His lover tilted his head and wiggled his neglected toes. “If we go down the stealth route, you know that leaves out the Jolly Green Giant and Thoreal. Spider Spy and Bird Man might come along if anything.” His boyfriend snorted. “The day you are honestly calling Iron Man a stealth machine is the day I'm hanging up my shield.” Before Tony's kicks could do real harm to Steve's nether regions, Jarvis interrupted their lovers' spat.  
  
“Incoming message from Miss Potts, Sir.”

* * *

Heavy explosions shook the foundation of the manor.

Hidden behind a secret passage inside one of the many rooms, Pepper and Alfred gripped their rifles tighter. The butler had told her something about a cave as a last resort, but neither of them was sure how many of Bane's men were out there, or from which side they would try to enter the building. Closing her eyes in silent prayer, Pepper thought she was hallucinating at the first, distinctive sounds of repulsor thrusters.

Iron Man came to the rescue in the nick of time. From where the Tumbler had already bombed away the fountain in front of the main entrance, it took Tony a few well-placed missile shots, and a good use of the triple barrel laser weapons mounted to each of his arms to put an end to the hostile situation. He then pushed apart the massive doors of something that resembled a hidden panic room with ease.  
  
There, he instantly found himself staring into the muzzles of two shotguns. “TONY!” At the sight, Pepper gave a small cry of relief and lowered the gun. “We need to speak about your definition of 'rash' back at home, sweetheart.” The armor's vocalizer managed to let Tony's concern seep through as he helped her and an elder man out of their cramped confines. His faceplate then came up, exposing a frown.  
  
“Are you okay, Pep?” She glimpsed at Alfred and nodded. “Yes, but the bomb - it's going to detonate soon!” Iron Man straightened up with an electronic whirr. “I'll have a look. Jarvis – locate the bomb and draw up the fastest route. Steve-O? You copy?” Pepper interrupted him by grabbing onto one of his gauntlets. “Please be careful. And if you come across the Batman...” She faltered.

Tony gave a funny looking wiggle of his free hand. “I've never had a thing for rodents, but I'll save his ass, too.” Stark took off with a blast from his jetpack boots, leaving Pepper and Alfred shielding their eyes from the emitted gust of energy. Seeing that no landlines or televisions worked, Pepper remained huddled by her mobile, waiting for the screen to blink an incoming call.

An agonizing 45 minutes later, her StarkPhone sprang to life. In a flash, she raised it to her ear.  
“Tony? What happened? Where are you?”  
It took a while until his deep voice rumbled over the static.

“Sweetheart? Looks like we're too late to the party. The Bat dude has flown the bomb out on the ocean. There was a nuclear explosion. Jarvis said radiation is elevated, but not life-threatening for the public. Have you heard from Wayne? Steve's supervising the evac convoys with the police. There are lots of kidnapped people running around, maybe he's among them. We'll keep our eyes open.”

The first silent tears began to run down Pepper's face as her hand with the phone in it began to shake. “Okay.” When the call ended, Alfred stood in the doorway. Pressing her hand over her mouth, her shoulders started to quiver, and it was all the devastating confirmation Pennyworth needed. Together they allowed themselves to cry for the man who had gone and sacrificed himself for his city.

* * *

After Tony returned to pick her up from the Palisades, Pepper's tears had not stopped running, and she was still in a state of shock. “He did not make it. Commissioner Gordon from the GCPD let us know.” The white lie she and Alfred had constructed to give their grief an outlet slipped from her tongue before her throat constricted anew. Stark looked shaken as he took her into his arms and held her tight.

His eyes darted over to where the man he had come to learn was Wayne's butler blew his nose into a handkerchief. Tony cleared his throat. “Listen, if there's anything we can do, just, uh... just let me know. We've got plenty of seats on the jet... or at the tower in New York, for that matter.” Alfred stuffed the used tissue into the sleeve of his woolen cardigan and exhaled deep.

“My place is here. I need to prepare a funeral for my son. Thank you nonetheless, Mister Stark.” Tony watched the devastated elder man hug Pepper for the longest time before he turned around and disappeared inside the imposing Manor. Stark stepped up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “His... son?” Pepper sniffed into a tissue and softly blew her nose. “He loved him as if he were his own.”  
  
Eyes stained red, she stared at the vast, gray skies of Gotham City and reached out for Tony's hand.  
“Take me home. I... need a few days off. Please.”  
Concerned at her toneless voice, Tony nodded and steered her towards a waiting Quinjet in the distance.

“Of course, dear. Take all the time you need.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from the song that has many versions. Original by Springsteen, covered by Manfred Mann's Earth Band and those dudes calling themselves The Disco Boys. Pick your fav. I know I did (but I'd never tell ;))


	16. Open Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly higher rating for minor adult situations

“No, I am afraid Miss Potts is unavailable at the moment, I am sorry. Yes, I will let her know. Thank you.”

The standardized sentence Jarvis used with each and every phone call or visitor was burnt deep into Pepper's memory after the past week of being incommunicado with the whole world. It had been nine days since she had returned from Gotham with the painful knowledge of losing Bruce forever. She had spent them either buried under the covers of her bed or apathetically on the couch, staring into nothingness.

“Miss Potts? There is an Alfred Pennyworth on the phone. His caller ID indicates a Gotham City line.”  
  
At the name, Pepper jerked out of her bleak, dreary reverie. “I'll... okay. Put him through, Jarvis. Thank you.” Seconds later, the speaker rustled. “Miss Potts? I need you to sit down.” Alfred Pennyworth waited until she affirmed she was. “Master Wayne is alive.” She fought down the urge to gag. “How...” Her jaw started to shake, causing her teeth to chatter against each other.

“Please take a deep breath and listen to me, Ma'am. Commissioner Gordon has found him, seriously injured but alive, at the opposite riverside of the Admiral Docks. He has brought him in two days ago.” Once the call ended, everything around Pepper started to reel. She glimpsed at the black-on-black outfit that hung outside of her dressing room for the past few days, waiting for her to put it on to attend Bruce Wayne's funeral.

With a feral scream, she tore the dress from its hangar and threw it into the corner, together with the matching coat and shoes, until she broke down in front of her dressing room bench, trying to keep the anxiety at bay. Jarvis, who was not only programmed to ensure the well-being of his creator but hers as well, deemed it wise to contact the very Mister Stark at her disconcerting behavior.

Less than five minutes later, Tony strode through her apartment, knelt down by her side and brushed a hand down her hair and heaving back. “Hey... Pep... heyheyhey, shhh... calm down. This is good news, isn't it? Hey... easy there, hun. Breathe. Nice and easy.” He talked her down in the upcoming ten minutes until she felt stable enough to get back on her feet. “Ex... excuse me for a moment.”

After running cold water over her wrists and face in the adjacent bathroom, Pepper wiped away the remains of her mascara and exhaled a few times to collect her jumbling thoughts. When she returned, Tony was still there, albeit dressed in his armor. His faceplate came up to reveal soulful, brown eyes. “Go. Head for the Palisades. I told that butler of his you're coming. A jet's waiting for you at the airstrip, luggage's on board.”

She wanted to be angry with him for making decisions over her head, but it was difficult to do so as he towered over her in his 6'6 suit. Tony then bent down to kiss her forehead and smiled that endearing smile of his. “I need you to be happy. The one thing I can't live without.” After they said their goodbyes, her tears came aboard the jet, leaving her to cry the rest of the flight before she arrived at a familiar, private airfield.

That time, however, a big black limousine stood waiting for her on the side, Pennyworth's coat wafting in the air. A twenty-minute drive later, the Sedan pulled up the gravel way of the large estate. Circumspect as always, Alfred took care of her luggage and led her inside, through dark wooden halls and imposing hallways.

A panorama front showcased idle, snowed-in lawns that stretched out for miles. When she saw him sitting out there on the patio, a thick blanket over his legs, her eyes began to water anew. Upon seeing her, Bruce brushed the cover aside and got to his feet, albeit unsteady and favoring his right side. She increased her stride until she was pressed up against his chest, inhaling deep.

“If you dare to do anything like that again, I swear I'll kill you myself, you goddamn, goddamn...”  
  
She desperately tried to hold back all of her emotions -relief, anger, fear- but the rest of her ridiculous threat went down in a sob. Bruce's arms went around her body as he buried his face in her hair. “It's over.” His words were hoarse, mumbled against her temple, and he held her even tighter. “I don't have to choose anymore.” Wordless, Pepper nodded into the crook of his neck and interlinked her arms in his back.

He blinked an unspoken gratitude over her head at his trusted butler.  
  
Alfred Pennyworth returned it with a dignified nod before he passed them by and disappeared inside to give them some well-deserved privacy.

* * *

Bruce spent the upcoming days mostly sleeping his bone-weary exhaustion and blood loss off.

Pepper stayed close by his side, listening to his labored breathing during his nightmares, and holding him when he cried in his sleep; never to remember it during the brief times he was semi-coherent. Laying in his arms, she would feel and hear the tendons and ligaments all over his body crack from overuse whenever he turned and twisted in between the sheets.

When Alfred was able to reduce the dosage of Naproxen, Bruce's real self slowly began to reappear from behind the haze of medication.

“Stay with me. Just a little.”  
Pepper ran a palm over his bearded cheek and nodded.  
“I'm not going anywhere for the next few days.”

As soon as the strict bed rest was over, Alfred outdid himself cooking the best food available for them. The first, tender rays of sunshine fought their way through the gray clouds one afternoon, and with Bruce becoming more than restless, he and Pepper went for a first, careful walk outside the manor. It had finally stopped snowing, even if the gravel paths and gardens were still coated in white.

Their fingers interlaced, Bruce led her over to a huge tree with its thick, bare branches covered in white. Close to the trunk were two weathered gravestones, and she involuntarily gripped his large hand tighter. Wordless they stepped up to the epitaphs of Thomas and Martha Wayne. “Mother, Father, this is Gina.” Bruce's voice was soft, but it startled her nonetheless. Pepper glimpsed at his solemn, clean-shaven profile.

“I'm sure you would have liked her. She's all I could've asked for.”

It was then that Pepper stepped up and leaned into his good side. When he remained silent, she dared to clear her throat. “You have raised a wonderful son, Mister and Mrs. Wayne. You couldn't be more proud of what he has become. I know I am.” Bruce still did not make a move to look at her. Instead, he let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders and draw her closer yet again.

Together they stood at the grave site for some more time, until the seeping cold of winter urged them back inside. “Have I ever shown you the rest of the house?” She passed her coat over into his waiting hands. “No. Some places I have seen on my first visit. Those I don't have to... relive again, actually.” Bruce nodded in understanding and offered her his arm.

“There's so much more.”

As it turned out, the 11-bedroom, 7-bath manor was more impressive than Pepper remembered it to be from her previous, frightful trip. She marveled at the baroque portrait gallery of many a Wayne ancestors, the invaluable, ornate tapestries hanging from the walls, and the ancient, well-preserved furniture. They spent the rest of the day on an old, comfortable couch in front of a huge fireplace at the ancient library.

The smell of books, wood, and leather was soothing, and Pepper sighed. “Too bad I have to be back in New York soon.” Bruce's fingers played with a few strands of her hair, twirling lazy circles into them before watching them unravel in his palm again. “Maybe that's the best for now. Gotham still isn't up to par.” She blinked her eyes open and stared into the fire. “Will it ever be?” Her question held no sarcasm. “I mean, without... him?”

His ministrations slowed down until they stopped. She looked up from where her head rested against his shoulder and found him squinting into the flickering flames. Bruce then gave a soft sigh. “I don't know. Only time will tell.” He was quick to rid himself of the melancholia that swung within and resumed his caresses to her hair. “I'll drive you to the airfield tomorrow.” His statement left no room to argue. Pepper hummed out loud.  
  
“What makes you so sure I'm going to stay the night?” Her tone was flirtatious, and he responded with a faint huff that sounded like a laugh. “I have my ways.” She then twisted, until her head rested in his lap and she was able to look at his suave smirk. “Really now? What would they be?” Bruce pretended to think his answer through, then pursed his lips. “Let's just say they include breakfast in bed.”  
  
With a deliberately lazy stretch, she raised her eyebrows and put one arm behind her head. “Is that your standard pick up line?” Amused at her tactics, he put up a very haughty expression and his left elbow up on the armrest. “Not really. I usually go with 'Bruce Wayne, billionaire' and that does the trick.” At his cocky reply, she tried to smack his chest, but his hand came up lightning fast to block her blow.

“Feisty. I take it you're not tired anymore?”

Pepper's head swum at the rate Bruce's voice and gaze went from serene to scorching in nothing but a heartbeat. Without warning, he slipped his arms under her knees and swept her up, at the same time getting to his feet. Her protests about his back fell on deaf ears as he carried her up the grand stairs to the east wing. And there, inside the king-size mahogany bed, Bruce Wayne truly made love to her for the first time.

It did not take him long to make her moan and writhe underneath his skillful fingers and mouth until she begged him for more. With a still far too controlled smirk, he rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him. His warm palms started to roam all over her body as she began to move her hips in slow, sensuous motions, closing her eyes as she felt him inside of her.

As she blinked them open to look down, his handsome face was captivated by mutual lust and desire. She bent down to trace a trail from his jaw to his mouth with her tongue. A slight sheen of moisture covered the soft skin above his upper lip, and she kissed it away. His eyes, dark and intense, lingered within hers. “Gina...” It was more of a moan, and his Adam's apple moved as he swallowed.

“... I love you.”

His mumbled confession made her quicken her pace, and her nails raked over his chest as he cupped her rear in return. Pressing into his pelvis for more friction, the sweet bliss of her orgasm washed over her soon after, and she allowed herself to get washed away in it. She vocalized her release by uttering his name, the one only she was privileged to use, as her fists clenched into the solid flesh of his shoulders.

Bruce's hands on her hips tightened as he started to buck upwards, reinforcing her final grinding motions before his moans joined hers mere seconds later. Pepper only returned to the present when his hand started to brush away her red tresses that hung all over their faces. Still joined in the most intimate way, she smiled at his sweated but sated countenance, and pressed a kiss upon his half-opened lips.

His thumbs continued to circle her hips as he looked up at her in wonder. “Worth the wait?” His question got her to huff out a smile. “Very.” After she had snuggled up to his side, he pulled the blanket over them both. “Gina, there is something I need you to do.” In an instant, her whole body went rigid. “If this is about you leaving now, Brix, you better forget it. I was promised breakfast in bed.”  
  
A meek smile on his lips, Bruce reached for her hand atop the blanket and interlinked their fingers.  
  
“Marry me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Journey's 1981 song/lyrics


	17. Wild Love

_~ ~ ~_  
_Miss Virginia Potts_  
_and_  
_Mr. Bruce Wayne_  
  
_request the honor of your presence_  
_at their marriage_  
_Saturday, the eighth of June_

 _two thousand thirteen_  
_at half after five o’clock_  
_First Congregational Cathedral_

_Gotham City_

_~ ~ ~_  
  
“I'm going crazy. That's it. I literally cannot handle the stress!”  
Out of habit, Tony raised both his feet when a long, white train of lace whooshed past him for the umpteenth time.  
“Now, now, Pep, stop mutating into Bridezilla here.”

 He put up a soothing grin which completely went past her as she kept on pacing the room from wall to wall. “Why couldn't we just have a nice little civil ceremony somewhere less populated, sign the damn papers, and be done in under an hour?! I mean this is what...” At that, Tony Stark held up a hand to interrupt her lamenting rant.

“Because you went and got yourself a real good catch there, Potts. Erm, sorry, future Mrs. Wayne. Brucie's not only hot but also an ultra-high-net-worth individual. He needs to have a big-ass scale wedding that undermines his -and also your- social status. It's gonna be the same hell I'll have to bestow upon Steve when we decide to tie the knot.”

That got her to pause.

“You proposed without telling me first?!”

He scrunched up one side of his face. “Nah, I didn't. But, hypothetically. It's just a matter of time, really. Besides, we wanted to leave the spotlight for you two while grabbing all the goodies we can get, and make notes on what mistakes to avoid.” She tried to ruffle the top of his perfectly coiffed hair, resulting in him trying to slap her hand away. “You are an ass, Anthony Stark.”

“Hey now - Steve likes this ass. And me. And I got you to stop pacing the room there, didn't I?”

As if on cue, she resumed walking in circles, and he groaned with a roll of his eyes. “What if I'm not ready? What if Bruce is not ready? We have not talked this through properly, we might have needed more time to go over the finalized version of the prenup again, and...” At that, Tony stood up, showcasing his tailor-made, black satin tuxedo. He stepped into her way and grabbed her slim shoulders.

“Pep, darling – you are gorgeous. Any man can be lucky to call you his wife. I almost feel a bit of a sharp pain in here,” he took one of her palms to place it square across his chest and ARC. “At not being the one who put a ring on it before that Gotham Grinch managed to, but... – as you see, life had other plans.” Seeing her eyes starting to fill with tears, Tony was quick to steer the topic into another direction.

“Because then I would've never realized how much I enjoy sucking dick, so... there's that, and...”  
He had to duck out of her close proximity fast to avoid getting whacked by her bridal flowers.  
“You are SO gross!”

* * *

When Virginia Potts stood at the entrance of the Gothic Episcopal Gotham Cathedral, she could not suppress a shiver. The organ was playing the final chords to the processionals for attendants as the guests were taking their designated seats in the pews. Up front, the priest was talking to the groom. “Oh my God.” From where he had interlinked hands with her, Tony Stark cast her a mischievous glimpse.  
  
“Yup, front and center, sweetheart.”

Pepper looked at him and saw nothing but proud satisfaction all over his features. There had been no question on whom would walk her down the aisle, and she was glad to have Tony accept without hesitation. He wore a fitted, three-piece black tuxedo with matching satin bow tie and waistcoat. His hair and goatee were trimmed to perfection, and the smell of his familiar fragrance lingered in the air.  
  
"Smile, beautiful. He's so going to lose it when he sees ya."  
  
His whisper and the reassuring squeeze of her fingers made Pepper inhale and blink up ahead through the delicate veil. "Stop making me even more nervous." The music then faded out, leaving only decent background noises of shuffling feet and quiet coughs within the huge church building. “So I'd better not tell you we've changed the procession to 'The Final Countdown' by Europe.”

He was trying hard to make her loosen up and laugh, and Pepper indeed found herself breaking a smile at his antics. Deep, reverberating hues from the cathedral's organ then set in for the bridal procession. The first, epic tunes of Wagner's Wedding March filled the air, and all of her skin erupted in goosebumps. Next to her, Tony also blew out his cheeks, straightened up, and cleared his throat.

“That's our cue, sweetheart.”

Almost in unison, all guests turned their heads into their direction. It was, however, the moment when Bruce turned around which made Pepper's heart beat even faster. Next to him, Alfred Pennyworth leaned in to whisper something in his protege's ear. A multitude of emotions flashed over the billionaire's face, even if he tried his best to appear unfazed. Tony gave a gentle pinch to her quivering fingers.  
  
"Yup, he's toast. C'mon now, dear, let's not keep 'em waiting."

Re-fastening her hold on the bridal bouquet in her right, Pepper's left hand clenched around Tony's. Her embellished Ellie Saab wedding gown with its long train gave a soft rustle as they began to walk. All she saw were blurred faces left and right as they strode down the aisle with circumspect steps. Despite her tunnel vision, Pepper made sure to put up a smile and kept it all the way up to the altar.

Her gaze remained glued to her future husband who stood waiting for her, tall and proud in his tuxedo. Once they passed the first two rows up front, Tony winked at his boyfriend who sat on the bride's left side. Steve beamed back at him, sitting next to Natasha, James Rhodes, and Happy Hogan. In the front row on the groom's side, Pepper recognized the man she had come to learn was Commissioner Gordon.

When they had made it up the lithic stairs, Tony cast Wayne a brief nod but kept on holding Pepper's hand. Bruce's eyes roamed over her, taking in every detail of her dress, crystal headpiece and earrings. “You look beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.” His voice was hushed and revered. Pepper allowed herself to smirk underneath her veil. “I feel like I'm about to faint, puke, or die, but thank you.”

The priest had not heard, but Tony gave a quiet chortle and glimpsed at the Gothamite. “I offered to fly her out in the armor last minute, but she refused to be a runaway bride, so you must've done something right.” Bruce's mouth twitched, but he said nothing and only watched Tony raise the blusher of her veil. They looked at each other for the longest time, until Stark kissed her cheek and looked at Wayne.

“Treat her right, you hear?”

With a solemn incline of the head, the Gothamite reached for Pepper's right hand, and that was when Tony Stark finally let go and stepped aside. The priest smiled at them, benevolent. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here on this beautiful day to witness the union of Virginia Potts and Bruce Wayne in holy matrimony.” After a brief welcome statement, the minister then looked at the Californian billionaire again.

“Who gives this bride today?” Tony stepped forward. “I do.” His eyes flickered from Wayne over to come to rest on his best female confidante and friend. “Albeit with a very heavy heart.” The last part was said with a smile. Turning to the couple, the elder minister then made a joining gesture with both arms. “Please face one another and join hands.” Somewhere in the back, someone blew their nose.  
  
Breathing out through half-open lips, Pepper felt Bruce run his thumbs in reassuring circles over her knuckles.

“Virginia Potts, do you take Bruce Wayne to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to honor him in love, be sensitive to his needs, comfort him in difficulty, and to put your full and complete trust in him, as long as you both shall live?” She smiled; eyes bright and shining. “I do.” Bruce held her gaze and mimicked her smile as it was his turn to repeat the words.

The priest nodded with a solemn expression. “Very well. To commemorate this union, you may now exchange rings to symbolize your eternal love and commitment to one another. Let these rings remind you always of that love, and of the promises you have made here on this day.” At that, Alfred Pennyworth stepped forward to present a black velvet case. The priest continued when the small bands were in their palms.

“Will each of you please repeat after me as you place the ring on your loved one's hand: 'I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and commitment. With this ring, I thee wed.'” Both did as they were told. “By the power vested in me by the First Congregational Cathedral of Gotham City, I now pronounce you, as lawfully wedded wife and husband. Bruce, you may now kiss the bride to seal your union.”  
  
His palm came up to cup the side of her face as he leaned in to do as he was told. The organist began to play Mendelssohn's Wedding March even while they were still in the middle of their kiss, causing Bruce to smirk against his wife's mouth. “The get-out-song.” She drew back and raised an eyebrow. “What are we waiting for then? Take me home.” Once they faced the people behind them again, the priest made a widespread gesture.  
  
“Ladies and gentlemen, I now have the wonderful privilege to present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Wayne.”  
  
High up in the cathedral tower with its louvers, the bells then began to peal. Their sound following them down the petal-covered stairs, outside to where a 1951 Rolls Royce Silver Wraith in dark gray was parked up in the front, adorned with some tasteful flower decoration. Someone released a flock of doves into the air, and reporters behind the gates started to take pictures.

After a lot of shaking hands and accepting congratulations, Bruce helped his bride getting into the vintage limousine. It was then that Tony Stark allowed himself to sigh. “I dunno if I can ever get used to 'That will be all, Mrs. Wayne.' But I guess now I... have to.” He patted Happy's shoulder as the big man sniveled. Steve squeezed his lover's hand with honest affection.  
  
“You'll manage just fine.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs referenced:
> 
> Wagner's Wedding March: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P6rX3wlDsVI  
> Mendelssohn's Wedding March: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tDYMayp6Dk  
> Chapter title taken inspired by Timecop1983: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeZ_4QFiVWI


	18. Why Can't This Night Go On Forever

Wayne Manor welcomed its many guests on 42,500 of square feet, resting on a gigantic 150 acres of land. It shone like a beacon from far away, illuminated from the outside by different colored spotlights. People were steered from the vast gravel parking lot through the grand foyer into a vast ballroom.

All of the tables were decorated with elaborate posies of green and white peonies. Large pictures of the couple on their official wedding shoot were decorated upon the walls. The wedding cake was a six-tier extravaganza that loomed up in the center of the big ballroom. After speeches and excellent food, Pepper and Bruce opened the parquet with their wedding dance to 'You are so beautiful'.

Neither of them noticed the multitude of cameras clicking in the semi-dark, too caught up in each other's eyes, until the music faded out and people applauded. In no time, the dance floor was filled, giving them a little break from being in the spotlight. Pepper allowed herself to exhale, making Bruce chuckle. “That bad, huh?” She pursed her lips. “I'd still have preferred a low-key wedding with just the two of us.”

The sigh he gave did not mirror on his face. “Me, too.” Bruce then put up a rakish look. “But I know a place where we'll be on our own soon. Provided of course that your precious Tony Stark ever leaves the dance floor again.” He glimpsed over to where said billionaire sashayed alongside his lover. “He does remind me of the Energizer Bunny.” Pepper then raised an eyebrow with a knowing twinkle.

“I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. Plus, you have a dirty mind, Mister Wayne, I am shocked.” Her tone was teasing and prompted him to grin. “It's your fault for looking so ravishing, Mrs. Wayne.” They continued to banter back and fro until a deep voice piped up from behind. “Mind if I cut in?” Jim Gordon adjusted his glasses and tried to downplay his awkwardness that came from being in a tuxedo instead of his usual coat.

Bruce gallantly stepped aside, but not without a last glimpse at his wife. “Just briefly, Commissioner. I've had to wait far too long for this moment.” Pepper threw him a deadpan look and reached out to clasp Gordon's fingers. “Which was, retrospectively, not my fault.” Her husband blew her a kiss and went off to either search for Alfred, or something to drink.

He did not get very far, and Pepper almost laughed out loud as Tony and Clint Barton wedged him in their middle and forced him to move along to their very own line dance creation to the final tunes of Elvis' Jailhouse Rock song. “Your timing was excellent, Commissioner.” Gordon's thick glasses flashed in the lights from up above. “You are speaking about the opportunity to see Bruce Wayne do the shuffle, Ma'am?”

Pepper followed his line of view and smiled with eyes full of love and affection. “That, too. I haven't had the time to say thank you for keeping an eye out for him all those years.” As the music changed, so did Gordon's face. It twisted with barely contained misery. “I did a lousy job. One that almost cost his life, countless times. It's a guilt I will have to live with.” She admonished him with a slight look of reproach.  
  
“Bruce doesn't blame you, Commissioner. I know that. And in the end, it was you who brought him back to... to me. I am forever in your debt because of that.” His cheeks began to regain their color. “Thank you, Mrs. Wayne. I do blame myself enough for the both of us, though.” She smiled, not without a final hint of gentle rebuke. “Please call me Pepper. The people Bruce trusts are people I trust in as well.” Gordon inclined his head.

“Then it's Jim, and I hope I won't let you down.”  
Her hand squeezed his.  
“I know his secret is safe with you, Jim. That's all I need for confirmation.”

They shared a look full of mutual understanding.

"To a brighter future. For Gotham and the rest of the world."

  
**THE END  
**   
  
  
_~epilogue~_  
  
_***_

_Fortune Magazine July 2013_

_'Meet the Waynes – America's New Power Couple Is Here To Revolutionize The Economy'_

_On regular working days, the couple is separated by 2,000 miles; miles spent away from each other at the headquarters of their respective companies. We have had the opportunity to speak to the newlyweds at the Wayne Tower in Gotham City, a few days before the start of their official honeymoon vacation._

_FM: “Do you ever see each other during the week? Does that make for a better marriage?_

“We do have weekly rituals where we are decompressing”, the newly wedded Mrs. Wayne says, with a coy smirk over at her suave looking husband. “But of course, there is always business before pleasure. Our rule is to work as hard as possible when we’re apart, and to be fully present when we’re together.”

_FM: Do you give each other advice on running two different companies?_

“There’s, of course, an extraordinarily high degree of empathy,” she says, “because we understand the roles that we each have.” She pauses to look at him, and he nods along. “But even if we serve as sounding boards for each other, no, we don’t spend our time together talking shop.”

“Neither of us uses the other as a free consulting opportunity,” her husband then chimes in. “We have been very clear about not interfering with each others business, right from the beginning”, Bruce Wayne -major shareholder and co-CEO alongside Lucius Fox- declares in a quiet, smooth baritone. “Besides, my wife is doing a much better job than most people I know. If anything, I can learn from her.”

The last part is accompanied by a smile in her direction. When she reaches for his hand to interlink their fingers, her wedding ring flashes in the light. It is simple, but most likely very expensive.

_FM: No engagement ring though?_

“I always considered myself more of a rational type”, Pepper Wayne expresses. “Besides, it was not a decision that needed a prolonged phase of acclimatization. It came very easy, very natural. No doubts.”

_FM: Final question – honeymoon destination?_

“That is going to remain completely confidential.” Bruce Wayne starts to smirk as he and his wife share another enamored smile. “It is, however, going to involve a lot of sun, sand, and sea.”

_The formidable duo is currently responsible for a combined $52 billion in market capitalization, each active in powerful trade organizations and nonprofits. They have an acute understanding of the stresses each faces in running a public company. They are also a private pair who, despite their prominent roles, is going to guard their relationship closely._

_Even if Stark Industries and Wayne Enterprises will continue to remain independent ventures, their CEOs legally barred from discussing inside information, this marriage is truly a merger of equals._  
  
_All the best to the wedded couple._

_***_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole verse started out with Journey, and it ends with Journey: Title taken from the 1986 album 'Raised on Radio'
> 
> ... whew, it's been quite a journey indeed! While I can see some more potential (also involving the timeline of several other Marvel movies), I think this is a good place to leave these two for now... finally happy... took them long enough ;)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has given this a chance, who read/kudo'ed/commented, and who thinks this ship might not be too crazy to imagine!
> 
> {NB: Faux epilogue interview heavily inspired by a Forbes' article on CEO couple Lundgren}


End file.
